


Hostel

by knenok95



Category: Carmilla (Web Series), Carmilla - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, Other, POV Second Person, fluffy smutty angst, frickfrak buddies, not even sorry about it, they go camping with sherman and have sex in the woods if that's your thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 17:15:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 31,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8022361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knenok95/pseuds/knenok95
Summary: Carmilla moved to LA to get away from her mother and her past, Laura moved to LA to further her career without her overprotective father breathing down her neck.  What happens when they both find themselves staying at a hostel run by one too many gingers?  Lots of bickering, heartbreak, and way too much flirting, probably.  And sex.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where this is going, just throwing that out there, but you’re welcome anyway. I got this idea stuck in my head after my brother suggested we move out west and practically do what Carmilla does in the story. Also, this most likely won’t be very long (probably only 1500 words a chapter, alternating between Laura’s and Carmilla’s POV) and I’m not going to edit it. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**_Carmilla_ **

LA was expensive.  You knew that before moving here, but the need to get out of your mother’s house and away from her bullshit was greater than your fear of becoming homeless.  There was also the fact that your now ex-fiancée, who your brother started calling She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, had used you for your access to your family’s money.  So, naturally, you moved to the other side of the country and ran away from your problems like usual.  Only this time, you tagged along with your brother while he went to school at some overly priced Ivy League establishment for some over exaggerated Law degree that you could care less about.

You tried college.  Five years of it, to be exact.  You had a degree.  Hell, you had two degrees, but Philosophy and Literature could only get you so far in today’s job market and working for your mother’s extremely successful law firm, like your sister, was the last thing you wanted to do.  So, you quit the whole school thing.  Your mother wasn’t too happy about that little tidbit of information.  In fact, the second you told her you were done, she told you to find another place to live and said you no longer had access to your birth father’s inheritance and trust fund from the law firm.  You were 21 with two college degrees and now, homeless, and your mother couldn’t care less.

This all left you where you were now: just turned 22, on month seven in LA, and your savings had run out.  You had sixteen dollars and 47 cents to your name and your month’s rent was due at the end of the week.  It was Wednesday and this was your second extension.  Basically, you were completely screwed.  And not in a good way.

Of course Will and Mattie didn’t have a problem with lending you money, but you had a problem with taking it from them.  You had hoped to find a job before you ran out of money, but obviously things didn’t work out so well.  You were fired from the last two jobs you worked.  When you mentioned your predicament to Will last month, he immediately offered up his couch, in his off-campus apartment, to you free of charge.  At the time you had refused, but desperate times called for desperate measures and you ended up calling him two hours ago to come pick you up after his class after your landlord refused another extension with a promise to kick you out if you couldn’t come up with this month and last month’s rent in two days.  That was impossible for you, so you told him it had been a pleasure, gave him the change from your pocket, promptly flipped him off, and went upstairs to pack your things.

You were standing outside on the curb, in front of your former apartment building with a duffle bag full of your clothes hanging off your shoulder, a backpack with your laptop and journals in it on your back, your pillow tucked under your arm, and a small suitcase packed to the brim with your books and other personal items at your feet, when Will pulled up in his decked out jeep with the windows rolled down and some shitty rap song playing through the speakers.  He turned down the music with a toothy grin when you raised an eyebrow at him through your aviator sunglasses and he greeted you with a ‘Hey ,Kitty’ as soon as you opened the passenger side door.  He immediately unbuckled his seatbelt and wrapped his arms around your neck in a hug only a brother could give.  You didn’t last very long before you found yourself with your arms around his shoulders and your face buried in his neck.  It had been way too long since the two of you had any brother sister bonding time.

**_Laura_ **

The house was massive.  Like, big enough to get lost in, massive.  Three stories,  scary black fence around the entire property, a garden in the backyard, circle driveway, it even had a chandelier light over the front porch.  On the main floor there was the keeper’s master bedroom, with a full bathroom, where Perry and Lafontaine stayed, a den that housed a beautiful white grand piano and a set of chairs that looked out over the front of the property.  Also on the main floor was another bathroom, the living room, a laundry room just off the kitchen, which was complete with an island and breakfast table, and off the main hallway was the dining room, complete with a fully stocked bar.  On the second floor was where the guests stayed.  It had been modified and renovated, after Perry’s mother inherited the old Victorian mansion, so that there were five bedrooms and four bathrooms.  Two of the bedrooms were singles, leaving the remaining three bedrooms with two twin beds in each.  One of the bedrooms had an extra bunk bed as well.  On the third floor of the house, was the rec area.  There was a fully stocked library with bookshelves covering every wall where previous guests had left books for future guests, there was a game room with a pool table and a large couch in front of a flat screen tv and several gaming systems, then there was a large sitting area separating the two.  You also found out from Laf that there was a secret door in the pantry that lead to an attic above the rec area, but Perry deemed that absolutely off limits and told you not to tell any of the other guests.

Apparently, Perry’s Great Grandfather left the property to his only granddaughter, Perry’s mother, who turned it into a sort of hostel where students or travelers could stay for extended periods of time.  Perry ended up taking over the business after graduating college, with a degree in business, making sure to give her mother a percentage of the earnings every month.  You and Perry and Laf have been friends since your freshman year when Perr was your floor don in the dorms and Laf was her roommate.

When Perry told you she had an opening at the house, you jumped at the opportunity.  The property was only a 35 minute walk, that could easily be made into a 15 minute bike ride, from the newspaper where you got a job and the rent wasn’t outrageous either, even when you refused the “friends and family discount” that Laf proposed.  Essentially, it was ideal.  You even got your own bathroom for the time being and you didn’t have to share a room with anyone.

Perry introduced you to all the residents at dinner the first night of your stay.  There was Danny and Mel in one room, Natalie, Sarah Jane, and Betty in another, and JP paid the rent of two people because apparently he needed the space for what Laf called “his experiments”.  You didn’t ask too many questions about that one, but took a mental note to stay far away from Room 5.  You found out that Danny was Bi, Betty, Mel, SJ, and Natalie were straight, but were all allies to the LGBT community, and JP was asexual.  They all seemed like great housemates and when you told them you were as gay as they come, they didn’t even bat an eye.

To say you were excited was an understatement.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmilla moves into the hostel, Laura deals with it...sort of.

**_Carmilla_ **

For someone who is in the top of his class at Stanford, your brother really is the biggest moron you have ever met.  He conveniently left out the fact that he had two dimwits for roommates when he invited you to take up the space on his supposedly unoccupied couch.  He also failed to mention that the three of them were in an idiotic fraternity and called themselves the “bros” of  _ Zeta Omega Mu _ .  He introduced you to his fraternity brothers as soon as the two of you got back to his place and you walked through the front door and right into a wrestling match between two shirtless numbskulls on what was supposed to be the living room’s floor, the television blaring some Rocky movie in the background.  You forgot their names immediately after Will said them and deemed them  _ Puppy _ and  _ Douche-Canoe _ .

_ Puppy _ immediately halted in his advances on  _ Douche-Canoe _ the minute he looked up and saw you standing there, resulting in  _ Douche-Canoe _ tackling him to the floor and placing him in a headlock to which he quickly tapped out of.  You simply raised an eyebrow and stepped over them on your way to the couch before plopping down and kicking your feet up onto the stained coffee table as Will explained why there was, in  _ Puppy’s _ words, a “sexy, scary Hottie” here.  You rolled your eyes and glared at him for that.  He made it up to you by letting you have the last slice of the pizza he paid for.

The “bros” weren’t completely horrible, you realized, after you got to know them a little more.  Theo (aka  _ Douche-Canoe _ ) wasn’t your favorite, but he mostly kept to himself and he occasionally shared his weed with you free of charge, so you couldn’t complain.  He wasn’t much of a talker either and you found that that was one of the few things you liked about him.  Kirsch, on the other hand, was slowly becoming your friend, whether you liked it or not and he turned out to be scarily loyal when it came to Will and since you were his sister, you figured the sense of loyalty just fell to you too.

No more surprise roommates presented themselves over the course of the next two weeks and you were grateful for that.  That is until you came home one night after roaming the streets with a bottle in one hand and a silent phone in the other, too incoherent to notice the signs of a party when there was one.  You walked through the front door of the apartment, albeit with a bit more difficulty than necessary, and found yourself face to face with three dozen college kids, a lot of booze, and way too many shirtless men in... loincloths?  Hell no.  That was the last straw.  First straw, really, but you couldn’t live like that.  Too many freshmen.

You moved out the weekend after.  You found what looked to be a nice quiet hostel back in LA with one room available, so you borrowed a grand from your brother, packed your very few things and hopped on a bus.

What you didn’t know was that that would be either the best or worst decision you had ever made.

**_Laura_ **

Your excitement lasted approximately three weeks and ended abruptly after your new suitemate moved in.

The first thing you noticed?  She was rude.  (You also might have noticed that she was Hot, with a capital H, but you wouldn’t admit that for anything.)  The second thing you noticed?  She was disgustingly messy.  So much so that you started using any other bathroom in the house, as long as it wasn’t the one that connected your room to hers.  And the fourth thing you noticed?  She spent all of her time in the library on the third floor, a book in hand, despite her collection of books in her room, which you totally didn’t go snooping through one night when she didn’t come home until almost three in the morning.  You only knew that because you  _ accidently _ left the bathroom door open on your side of the room and the light from it woke you up.  You definitely were not waiting up to see what time she would get home.

She barely ever showed up for house dinners, or breakfasts, or lunch for that matter.  The only time you recall her ever granting the lot of you with her presence was the first day she moved in when Perry practically dragged her to the dinner table.  Perry introduced her as Carmilla before she introduced everyone else to her and you and the rest of the guests were met with a half-hearted wave and a raised eyebrow.  Then she sat down next to you with a smirk and a ‘ _ Pass the potatoes, Cutie _ ’ whispered in your ear.  You hoped to Helga Hufflepuff that the blush wasn’t too obvious on your cheeks, but the smug grin and wink sent your way when you obliged and handed Carmilla the potatoes, told you otherwise.

You pretty much tried to avoid running into her after that.  It didn’t work, of course, considering she was your suitemate and all, but a girl could dream.

One run-in in particular, two weeks after Carmilla moved in, left you hiding out in your room for the better part of a week.

Laf made sure to bring you food and you always noticed Carmilla sulking not far behind them.  You tried to not think too hard about what that might mean.  You were bed-ridden and concussed, after all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmilla's sweet, Laura...isn't.

**_Carmilla_ **

Okay, in your defense, hitting the Cupcake in the face with her bedroom door was  _ not _ your fault… the door jam was stuck and she just happened to be standing on the other side of the door when you ran your shoulder into it and got it unstuck.  Giving her a bloody nose and a concussion was not in your plans to make her annoyed as all Hell, but that seemed to do the trick and for some reason you hated her being mad at you.  She was especially furious when you had to carry her to the car because she couldn’t walk straight, or keep her eyes halfway open for that matter.  You gave her your, previously white, t shirt and pressed it to her nose in an attempt to stop the blood from staining Perry’s backseat.  When you held up two fingers and asked how many she could see, she replied with a middle finger pointed in what was supposed to be your direction, but ended up being slightly more to your left.  You directed her finger to where it should be and rolled your eyes and held up two fingers again, repeating your earlier question.  She mumbled that there were four.

You asked if Lafontaine could drive any faster.

She fell asleep on your shoulder soon after that.

Her nose didn’t break, so you counted that as a victory, and her concussion was mild enough that they let her leave the hospital after a couple hours with instructions to let her rest, but to wake her up every two to three hours and if she threw up at all, to bring her back right away.  You offered to be the one to stay up and make sure she was okay and Laf quickly agreed, saying you were practically a vampire anyway with your sleep schedule and that they would be back at a normal daylight hour.  You couldn’t blame them, it was pretty late.

Laura didn’t put up too much of a fight when you let her know that you would be staying in her room for at least the next 24 hours.  She just mumbled a ‘ _ whatever _ ’ and some other nonsense that you couldn't understand, and rolled over in her bed while you set an alarm for two hours from then before you quietly walked over to your bedroom and wheeled your suitcase full of books to sit next to the chair in the corner of her room.

You managed to finish one of your beloved novels and get halfway through another before Laura caved and practically forced you to lay in the bed with her, simply stating, “Since you insist on being in here, I don’t need you complaining about your sore back from that old and hard-as-a-rock chair.”

Halfway through the night and somewhere between your second and third novel, Laura curled up into your side in her sleep.  You didn’t complain when her head found itself on your chest less than an hour later.

**_Laura_ **

When you woke up for what seemed like the millionth time that night, to the loud annoying tone of whatever song Carmilla set as your alarm, your head was on Carmilla’s chest and she was snoring lightly underneath you, a book still open in her hand.  You didn’t bother waking her up, instead you shut the alarm off, set it for another two hours, and rolled over to the other side of the bed.  You tried really hard to ignore the cold that seeped into your bones and made you shiver the second you left the comfort of her warm body.

Two hours later when you woke up, again to the annoying sounds of the alarm, the sun was up and Carmilla’s arm was draped across your stomach, her head on your pillow, while yours was resting on the cool sheets.  You tried to pry her off of you in favor of shutting the alarm off, but she woke up mid struggle, just enough to slap her hand across her phone screen, silencing the alarm, before she tucked herself back into your side.  You didn’t object and chose to ignore the contented sigh that escaped her lips.

When you woke up again, it wasn’t because of an alarm.

It more had to do with the fact that Laf had barged into your room with a loud ‘ _ oh! _ ’, apparently with the intention of bringing you breakfast, but their shock at what they were seeing, obviously more interesting.

You could feel Carmilla’s breath tickling your neck and her arm around your waist, holding you tightly to her and vaguely registered the fact that your legs were tangled together before Lafontaine cleared their throat and both yours and Carmilla’s eyes shot open at the same time.

It took a few seconds for your current position to register for Carmilla, though, but when it did, everything happened as if your life was a prerecorded sitcom being fast forwarded through on the television.

Carmilla practically threw herself off of you, nearly falling off the bed in the process.  She looked half terrified, half still asleep.  Her eyes were wide and her eyebrows were creased in the middle, her mouth slightly open as if she wanted to say something, but didn’t know what.  Her eyes were darting around the room and between you and Laf and the door to the bathroom, like she was looking for an escape route.  

When Laf finally placed the tray of food they were carrying on the dresser by the door, Carmilla took the opportunity to make a swift exit into her bedroom.  You ignored the pang in your chest at the look on her face.  You also ignored the look Lafontaine gave you after she closed her door.

That leaves you where you are now.  Refusing to leave your bedroom, refusing to face Carmilla.  As far as you know, she’s been doing the same thing and has only been leaving her room before anyone else got up and only returning when she was sure everyone was asleep.  She was avoiding you.  And you hated it.

You thought annoying, cute, flirty, snarky Carmilla was bad...nonexistent Carmilla was even worse.

So, you came up with a plan.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmilla is busy avoiding Laura, Laura isn't having any of it.

**_Carmilla_ **

You refused to acknowledge the fact that you were caught snuggling up to your incredibly cute suitemate in the early hours of the morning by none other than the nosy science nerd that ran the place with the other annoying housewife you called home for the past month and a half.  You refused to acknowledge that you enjoyed it, that you wish you could be in that position now.  You refused to acknowledge the fact that you haven’t slept as well as you did that night, curled up in Laura’s arms, your body pressed intimately into hers.  You cursed your body for gravitating toward her in your sleep, without your conscious mind’s consent.  And now, you curse yourself for being as childish as you have been, but it’s for your own good, you think.  You’ve been waking up at the ungodly hour of four am, just so you can avoid any and all of the other people that occupy the same living space.

You say ‘waking up’ as if you’ve actually been going to sleep.  You haven’t been.  Or, at least you wouldn’t consider what you’ve been doing ‘ _ falling asleep _ ’.  Coming home at nearly two am every night, after making sure everyone is asleep and promptly landing face first onto your mattress and closing your eyes until your alarm goes off at four doesn’t count as sleeping, in your book.

It’s unhealthy, you know, but it’s also better than seeing Laura’s face.  Or Laf’s.  Plus, you kind of justify not sleeping during the night by taking naps wherever and whenever you can, during the day.  Like in the coffee shop two blocks from the house, where you fell asleep for what you could have sworn was only a couple seconds, but the cute barista insisted was almost three hours.  She gave you her number on the side of the coffee she made you, free of charge.  You threw it away in a garbage can halfway down the street after you left a $10 tip in the tip jar when she wasn’t looking.  You never took a sip and you didn’t bother saving the girl’s number. You found a new coffee shop to nap at after that.

After one particularly long all-nighter, you found yourself on a train with a plan to visit Will for the weekend, but you fell asleep and ended up three hours north of where your original stop was.  Will sent Kirsch to pick you up at the train station in some podunk town because Will had classes to go to.  Three hours in Kirsch’s beat up piece of shit wrangler that’s as old as you are, forced to fear for your life and make conversation with the frat boy was enough to regret everything and reconsider your current plan of avoiding Laura at all costs.  (You ignored the fact that you considered Kirsch your best friend after that accidental road trip.  You also ignored the fact that the conversations the two of you had were far from boring or awkward.  You may have even laughed at one of Kirsch’s jokes.  But you wouldn’t admit to it if anyone asked.)

After that weekend you forced yourself to consider taking up a regular sleeping schedule.  And you kept that promise when Kirsch dropped you off at the house before noon on Monday.  He insisted he walk you to the door because he wanted to “ _ meet the other hotties you live with _ ”.  You slapped him upside the head for that, but let him come in with you nonetheless.  The house was eating breakfast when the two of you walked in.  Laura, Danny, and Betty were eating Choco Crunch at the island.  Laf, Perry, and JP were at the table with hardboiled eggs and hot sauce in front of them.  And SJ, Mel, and Natalie were all standing around near the sink, washing their dishes.  You ignored them all when they immediately stopped what they were doing to look at you and the beefcake that trailed behind you.  You mumbled what you hoped was a coherent “this is Kirsch” before grabbing two bowls from the cupboard and two spoons and handing them to Kirsch before taking the box of Choco Crunch and half-gallon of soy milk from where they sat on the island counter in front of Laura.

Laura, who was watching you with such curiosity.  Laura, who you made eye contact with for a brief, but what felt like forever, second.  Laura, who had milk dribbling down her chin in a way that should have been disgusting, but you found endearing.  Laura, whose eyes you could feel boring holes in the back of your head when you turned around with the cereal and milk and made your way to the opposite end of the table from Perry, Laf, and JP, Kirsch sitting down to your right.  You stayed completely silent while you ate and tried to focus on anything but the honey brown eyes staring at you from across the kitchen.

The quiet was unnerving.  You hated it, but you weren’t about to break it.  Instead, Kirsch did.  His charm and child-like personality was natural and your housemates loved him.  And you were never more grateful for the giant dork of a puppy you called a friend for distracting them from you.  Even if he had no clue he was doing it.

When you finished eating and left the bowl and spoon for Kirsch, or  _ whoever _ , to take care of, you went upstairs to your room.  Kirsch didn’t follow, instead choosing to continue to talk the other’s ears off about how he knew you and several other things you chose not to pay attention to.  Apparently, he stayed until after lunch, texting you when he left that he should visit more often and that he was glad you invited him in because he had a great time “chillin’ with the gals, and bro, and the totally rad scientist”.  Then he mentioned he got Danny’s number and wouldn’t shut up about it until you told him to.  You tried not to throw up at the thought of the sasquatch and your best friend being a  _ thing _ .

That night you fell asleep at a normal time.  Well, normal for you.  Sometime around midnight to be exact.  You fell asleep on the couch in the game room with a book in your hand.  When you woke up, the sun was threatening to come up and your eye caught a glint off something attached to the wall that didn’t look like it belonged there.  Your eyes focused a bit in the dark and you made out the outline of a practically invisible door.  Your curiosity got the best of you and you silently made your way over to it, tripping on a plant that you didn’t notice on the floor and landing against the spot in the wall you discovered.  It immediately clicked and you pulled back after bracing yourself.  The door opened a little and you had to brush away several cobwebs before you were able to walk through it, but you made sure to quickly grab the book you fell asleep reading and made your way into the dark room, making sure to close the door behind you.

There was a light switch on the wall to your left and upon flicking it on, you were immediately mad at yourself because of the fact that you hadn’t found this place sooner.  There were stairs in front of you that headed down, to where, you weren’t sure, but there was another set of stairs beyond the light switch that you climbed with caution.  The stairs led to an attic of sorts.  There wasn’t anything in it, but a dust covered floor and a large window that overlooked the front property of the house, and a door in the corner of the room with a lock on it.  You’d have to explore that some other time.  Right now, you were distracted and enchanted by the view of the distant stars from where they shone through the window.  The sight was beautiful.

You made sure to turn the light off before settling in on the windowsill under the window with your book.  Your knees drawn to your chest and a slight smile on your face.

You don't remember falling asleep, but when you woke up to the sun high in the sky, you found yourself covered in the blanket from your bed, a familiar smelling pillow under your head, and your book with a piece of paper in it closed on the floor next to you.

**_Laura_ **

Yeah, maybe you were a little surprised when Carmilla barged into the house and actually ate breakfast with all of you and maybe you wanted to be mad at her and yell at her for disappearing for what felt like years and maybe you were a little disappointed that she seemed to be playing it off like nothing ever happened between the two of you, but you couldn’t help it.  You  _ were _ surprised.  You  _ did _ want to yell at her.  You  _ were _ disappointed.  But when you went up to the attic through the passageway in the pantry to clear your head because you couldn’t sleep with all of your Carmilla-filled thoughts and you found none other than Carmilla asleep on the windowsill with a book on her chest and quiet snores coming from her mouth, you couldn’t help yourself when you unlocked the door across the room and snuck down the stairs that led to the closet in Carmilla’s room and grabbed her blanket and your pillow and a folded piece of paper that you saw her using as a bookmark one time.  She was still asleep when you made your way back up the stairs so you took a minute to just  _ look _ at her.  She looked young, like she was 18 again.  Her features were completely relaxed.  There was no stupid, sexy smirk on her lips.  Her eyebrows weren’t furrowed or raised in the annoying way she sometimes addresses you.  She was just  _ Carmilla _ .  And you thought she was the most beautiful being you had ever come across.

You had originally planned to get her attention by simply annoying the shit out of her like she annoyed you most of the time.  You had it all thought out.  You were going to move her stuff around in the bathroom, hide your pillow so it didn’t miraculously end up in her bed, use her favorite coffee mug instead of your Tardis one, eat her food, use her milk.  Your plan was foolproof.  What you hadn’t anticipated was that she would find your hideout and use it as a reading nook, in which she fell asleep.  And you definitely didn’t anticipate the way the moon shone on her skin to make your stomach flutter like it did.  Or the way her hair looked so smooth that you wanted to run your fingers through it until she was sighing into your neck, contentedly.  You didn’t anticipate the way her lips were slightly parted to make you  _ feel things _ .  Things like an annoying urge to softly place kisses to them until she woke up.

You didn’t know what was wrong with you.

Actually that was a lie.

You did know.

You knew because you hadn’t stopped thinking about how it felt to hold her since the morning you woke up with her in your arms and her head on your chest, but you didn’t want to acknowledge that little incident if she wasn’t.

That’s what you were calling it now.

The incident.

Because it was.  An incident.  But that’s all it was.

Except that was a lie too.

It was so much more than an incident to you.

So, you did the natural thing and came up with another plan.  A plan that included things that you knew Carmilla would pay attention to.

Things like:

Not closing the door when you showered.

Wearing skirts to work without tights underneath, instead of your usual dress pants and dress shirt.

Parading around your room in just your bra and underwear with the bathroom doors open.

These were sure things to get Carmilla’s attention.  And yes, you were aware that you were using your body to get what you wanted, but could anyone blame you?  Carmilla was avoiding you.  And it hurt.  And you didn’t want to talk about it.  So, actions would have to work.  You were taking a page out of Carmilla’s book and stepping up the  _ sexy _ -factor.  Because it certainly worked when she walked around in just her robe for a week straight after she found out it made you blush uncontrollably.

Your plan wasn’t that complicated.  The complicated part was waiting for the right moment when you knew Carmilla was in her room and not in the attic, where she seemed to be spending most of her time lately.

On your second attempt at showering with the door open, Perry walked in to restock the linen closet with clean towels and almost had a heart attack.  The embarrassment alone was enough to force you to make sure you locked the doors every time you showered.

On your fourth day of wearing a skirt to work, your cubicle mate, Jared, told you the creep in the cubicle at the end of the walkway was constantly checking you out.  You stopped wearing skirts to work and went back to your dress pants and button ups.

Carmilla didn’t see you once.

The first time you decided against wearing clothing while relaxing on a Saturday, you forgot to close the blinds on your window and that happened to be the day Kirsch decided to come back to visit.  He saw you through the window and profusely apologized when he eventually paraded into the house.  That was the last time you did that.

Carmilla wasn’t even home that time.  Apparently she got a job at some bookstore a few blocks away and was working crazy hours.

When Carmilla finally did notice you, it was a complete accident.  You had given up on your plans and just gave up in general.  If she wasn’t interested, she wasn’t interested.  If she was, you were putting that into her hands.  Thankfully, that was exactly where you fell.

You were late for work.  Jared was covering for you, but he could only hold off your boss for so long.  Your alarm didn’t go off because your phone died in the middle of the night.  Apparently you forgot to plug it in.  So, you were running around like a madwoman trying to put your shoes on, button your shirt, drink your hot chocolate, and swallow the bagel sticking out of your mouth, all at the same time.

That was the same time Carmilla decided to grace the house with her presence.  Which you thought was weird because you normally never see her before noon on a weekday.  Or a weekend, for that matter.

You were walking (more like running, or sprinting if you want to get technical) through the kitchen to the hallway with one arm in your cardigan, the bagel still in your mouth, your hot chocolate in your elbow, your shoes in your left hand, your helmet on your wrist, and you weren’t watching where you were going because your shirt was halfway undone and that took precedence over direction.  Or that’s what you thought.  Before you ran into Carmilla.  And then ended up on the floor of the foyer, your hot chocolate soaking into Carmilla’s t shirt.  Apparently it was still hot, judging by Carmilla’s squeal of ‘ _ ow _ ’.

You tried to apologize.  You swear you did, but the second you opened your mouth was the same second Carmilla moved her hips to try and get you off of her.  The sound that came out of your mouth was not human and the look Carmilla gave you couldn’t be described as anything less than predatory.  Before you knew what you were doing, you were leaning forward and crashing your lips into hers, or maybe it was the other way around.  Either way, you were kissing her.  And she was kissing you back.  With so much want you could hardly keep up.

You barely registered your hips moving against hers or the noises coming from her throat, or the shrill, panicked voice of Perry at the bottom of the stairs to your left.  Carmilla clearly registered it just fine because within the next second you were flat on your ass and Carmilla was on the other side of the foyer.

Your eyes were glued to Carmilla.  She was breathing heavily, her lips were swollen, and her hair was completely out of place from where your hands found their way into her dark locks.

Looking at her then, was the first time you noticed that she wasn’t wearing any pants.

For some reason that put everything into perspective.

You were incredibly turned on.  Your shirt was still unbuttoned.  You were now covered in hot chocolate from Carmilla’s shirt.  You were sure your lips were just as swollen as Carmilla’s.  And you were positive you were breathing just as heavily.

When someone cleared their throat, you watched Carmilla turn around and head towards the living room where you heard her run up the other flight of stairs, two at a time.

If this entire situation didn’t scream deja vu, you didn’t know what did.

**At least she finally noticed you. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fucking gingers...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for actually taking the time to read this! And enjoying it! It's fun to write and I find it hilarious.

**_Carmilla_ **

Of course you were embarrassed that you got so caught up in the fact that Laura was on top of you that you managed to forget you weren’t alone for a few seconds.  And of course you wish you didn’t see Perry’s terrified face every time you closed your eyes, but the sounds Laura was making, as if there wasn’t a floor full of people above you did  _ things _ to your insides.  Things you were done hiding because apparently she had a thing for you too and if seeing her again had the potential to lead further than what happened in the foyer, you were done avoiding her.

After your shift at the bookstore, anyway.

You were extremely late to work that day because you had some pent up... _ frustration _ , of the sexual variety, that you had to take care of before you went into work.  If Laura’s hasty exit was any indication, she was late too.  The only difference being that you didn’t really care when your boss, Vordenturd, reprimanded you for it.  He was barely there when you worked a shift anyway and his granddaughter, Elsie, that practically ran the place, has had a thing for you since you started working there.  She also lets you get away with  _ a lot _ .  It’s not your fault you look good in leather pants.

You don’t know why, but you decided it would be a grand idea to start showing up for meals after your little stunt with Laura that morning.

If you weren’t busy working when the rest of the house ate, you would join them at the dining table for breakfast, lunch, or dinner.  Or any other time Laura ate.  You obviously had ulterior motives, especially considering that the only available seat at the table was the one directly to Laura’s right.  You couldn’t help yourself, she got so worked up over the littlest things.

One evening during dinner, you slyly put your hand on her knee, making her jump practically out of her chair.  Everyone immediately looked at her and she blushed so hard you were sure there wasn’t any blood anywhere else in her body.  Perry had asked her what was wrong and she barely managed to squeak out ‘ _ spider _ ’.  Her excuse was lame and she was a horrible liar, but you decided to help her out by slamming your hand on the table and shouting ‘ _ got it! _ ’.  Danny gave the two of you a  _ look _ , but everyone else bought it.

The next night, when you asked her to pass you the potatoes, in your “bedroom” voice, she nearly choked on her chicken breast.  You cut back after that.  You didn’t need to be the reason she ended up in the hospital.  Again.

But you didn’t stop walking around in just your robe on your days off and you made sure to give Laura some of her own medicine and left the bathroom doors open when you showered.  You know she was doing it on purpose, she just never saw you notice her and make a swift exit.

You also wore your leather pants more often.  You found that she liked those the best, if the constant shade of red on her face when you wore them was any indication.

Like right now.

You weren’t even trying and she was already squirming in her seat on the couch next to you.  Although, her reaction very well could be due to the fact that you were only wearing a bra and your favorite red flannel, which she only found out you were wearing when she jumped over the back of the couch with a quick ‘ _ watcha watchin’, Karnstein? _ ’ before she finally looked at you and you watched her eyes go wide.  You covered your snicker with a smirk and she abruptly faced forward again and didn’t take her eyes off the television screen.  It was hot out and she could deal with it.

You were trying to watch the original  _ Psycho. _  You don’t think she meant to be as close as she was, but she had hopped over the back of the couch and landed in the middle of the two cushions and instead of scooting to the other end, she scooted towards where you were lazily lounging with a bowl of popcorn in between your thighs.

It took you until the shower scene to work up enough courage to initiate anything.

**_Laura_ **

You were actually getting into the movie playing on the TV, that your eyes had been glued to for the past 20 minutes, when you noticed movement out of the corner of your eye.  Carmilla was sitting up slowly and she moved the bowl of popcorn, half full, to the coffee table in front of the two of you.  You didn’t want to look, but she was moving  _ towards you  _ and it was more of a reflex when you turned your head and your eyes met.

Within seconds her hand was at the back of your head and her mouth was on yours and if you thought the first time the two of you kissed was like something out of a movie, then this time it was like it came straight out of a fairytale.  You didn’t spend time thinking about it when your lips started moving against hers.  Her lips were softer than you remembered, more gentle, but also more possessive, as if she wanted you to know that you were the only one she was doing this with.

You found your hands moving to her waist, her elbows, her neck, her hair, all of their own accord.  It was like your body knew what you wanted before your brain could catch up.

You tried to sit up more to push her back to get more comfortable, but she just ended up pushing forward and you found yourself with your neck resting on the armrest and Carmilla on top of you, straddling your waist.  But you weren’t complaining.  She definitely knew what she was doing with her mouth.  And her tongue.

The thought caused you to squirm and let out an embarrassing whine to which Carmilla just smirked against your lips.  You barely managed to mumble a ‘ _ shut up _ ’ against her lips before she ground her hips into yours and you both moaned.  Hers came out as a gravely ‘ _ fuck _ ’ and yours was more of a high pitched squeak, but either way it seemed to have flipped a switch in both of you and suddenly you were slipping your hand under her bra and cupping her breast and she was slipping her hand under the waistline of your university sweats and teasing you through your underwear.

You were trying to be quiet, you were, but the amount of sexual frustration and tension that she caused you was making it hard not to moan at every slight movement of her fingers.  You figured she was in the same position as you because you barely had to do anything and she was a complete mess above you, making just as much, if not more, noise than your were.

And there was your mistake.  You didn’t care if you were making noise, as long as she was inside of you within the next 30 seconds.  But you didn’t get there because less than 10 seconds later, you heard feet barreling down the stairs and the two of you froze.

You barely registered Danny’s disgusted shout of ‘ _ for Christ’s sake you guys, get a room! _ ”  before your hand shot out from under Carmilla’s bra, her hand shot out from your sweats, and her body collapsed into yours, her forehead landing on your shoulder.  She was grumbling under her breath and you couldn’t help yourself when you started uncontrollably laughing when she mumbled ‘ _ there better not be anymore gingers in this damn house, they seem to be- _ ’.  You had to cut her off with a light slap to the arm because you were afraid of where she was going with that.  She just laughed.

You didn’t bother getting off the couch that night.  And neither did Carmilla.

You fell asleep shortly after she pulled the blanket from the back of the couch over the two of you and relaxed in your arms, her head on your chest and another black and white movie playing on the TV.

The two of you woke up the next morning to an empty house, a fresh pot of coffee on the counter in the kitchen, and a note taped to the oven saying there were leftover waffles, still warm, on the top rack, and strawberries and whipped cream in the fridge.

You ate breakfast together and drank your hot chocolate and she drank her coffee.

Carmilla didn’t run away.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No interruptions...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, this took a turn.  
> Not even sorry 'bout it.

**_Carmilla_ **

You were done hiding and ignoring your feelings for Laura.  Frankly, it was entirely too exhausting to keep pretending that she didn’t make your heart flutter and your insides instantly warm at simply the thought of her.  It was disgusting.

It started off as a game.

She was cute.  You were vulnerable.  She liked you…

Well, maybe she didn’t like  _ you _ , but she liked the way you  _ looked _ .  Honestly, you couldn’t blame her, though.  You’re hot and you know it.  Because you  _ tried _ .  Because it was a  _ game _ .  Because it kept you  _ entertained _ and it kept your mind off things you didn’t want to think about.

Like your mother, your ex, your old life.

But, of course, in old Carmilla fashion, you had to fuck things up and make it something more.

You started falling for the short, honey haired woman that you so conveniently shared a bathroom and a house with.

At first, it was nauseating.  You couldn’t stand yourself.  You broke your own rules and you fell for this girl.  Hard.

You tried to ignore your feelings.  You were a pro at it.  Previously.  But with Laura it was different.  Everything was different with her.

_ She _ was different and maybe that’s what was so intriguing about her, at first.

You didn’t think what the two of you seemingly shared was real.  You didn’t think it was even possible.  You didn’t think it was fair.

You didn’t think you deserved anyone as good as Laura.  And you definitely didn’t think Laura deserved someone as shitty as yourself.

But, you started thinking.  Late at night, when the house was quiet, there were plenty of opportunities for your mind to wander.  And you let it.  Except it always wandered to Laura.  Not that you were complaining, of course, but this wasn’t supposed to happen.

And one of those nights, is when it hit you.  It hit you like a fucking freight train.

You liked her.  You  _ like _ liked her.  Like you  _ really _ , really like liked her and it scared the shit out of you.  Because you didn’t even feel this way toward your almost wife.  And you knew her for  _ years _ , not months.

The night you fell asleep in her arms after being caught by Agent Orange, complicated things.  Or, you thought they did.

Looking back, though, they kind of simplified things.  It confirmed one thing that had been plaguing your mind and driving you insane.

Laura liked you back.  She  _ like _ liked you back.

And she was okay with  _ not  _ having sex with you.  She was content to just cuddle on the couch under an old blanket and watch old movies with you and eat stale popcorn out of a shared bowl.

This was new for you.  Ell never did anything like that with you.

Sure you had sex.  Lots of sex.  But it was more give than take.

After awhile you stopped letting her touch you like that and maybe that should’ve been the first clue that something wasn’t right in your relationship.

Ell hated black and white movies.  She always claimed that colored movies came into existence for a reason and would promptly change the channel.  You hated it.  It drove you insane.

She also never let you eat junk food.  You tried to argue that popcorn was technically corn and that corn was a vegetable, but she wasn’t having any of that.  There hadn’t been junk food in the apartment since the day she moved in with you in your big, fancy penthouse in New York that your mother had bought you.  (At the time, it was easier to just go along with her.  If she wanted to pay for an apartment in the city and spend too much money for too much space, you weren’t going to argue.  Not to mention, the place was beautiful.)

Laura, on the other hand, would eat junk food for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if Perry would let her.  And you’ve caught her a few times sneaking cookies into her room on days where Perry let the house choose what they wanted to eat and she didn’t make dinner and her and Laf went out.

When you caught on to Laura’s antics, you started buying her favorite brand of cookies and leaving them on her pillow so she wouldn‘t have to sneak them anymore.  You also had a tendency to steal her cookies when you were in the mood for chocolate or on your period, so this was kind of your way of paying her back.  You always made sure to leave a note, sans your name, and a 6-pack of grape soda or a box of hot chocolate.  It probably wasn’t good to feed into her addiction, but she always smiled more when she came home from work and there was a pack of cookies and her favorite drink with her name on it.  You soon found out there was nothing better than seeing her eyes light up and a bright smile stretch it’s way across her face.

You had an inkling that she knew it was you.  She always sent shy smiles your way for the rest of the week or weekend whenever you got her the treat.

What confirmed your suspicions was a pile of classic horror movies, a box of popcorn, and a bottle of your favorite whiskey, that you didn’t even know she knew you liked, on your bed one night after a particularly heated phone conversation with your mother.

You had ignored her calls for nearly a year at that point so you figured things had probably calmed down enough to where the two of you could have a civilized conversation.   _ Boy _ , were you wrong.  You ended up having to take the call outside to get away from everyone’s stares.  You knew they could hear her through your phone speaker with the way she was screaming at you.

You changed your number the next day, bought another bottle of whiskey, and spent the night in the slide at some park you found a little ways from the house.  It was nothing special, but you couldn’t face the house after that whole debacle.

When you walked through the door the next afternoon, Laura engulfed you in a bear hug and didn’t let you go until you hugged her back.  She didn’t leave your side the rest of the day and she made you sleep with her in her bed that night.  You went up into the attic before she woke up, though.  She found you two hours later, crying into your pillow so you wouldn’t make noise.

You took the rest of the week off from work and so did Laura, against your protests, and made you exchange numbers with her.

That weekend was Halloween and Perry threw a small party, inviting Kirsch, Will, and Theo.  Laura ditched the party to hang out with you in the attic. She brought a TV and a DVD player from her room and made you build a blanket fort with her.  The two of you watched the movies she got you and shared the bottle of whiskey and two bowls of popcorn and just  _ talked _ .

She listened to you rant about your mother and your ex and your siblings and your fucked up home life and then she proceeded to tell you about her father and her mother who passed away from breast cancer after it spread to the rest of her body.  You then told her about your father who died when you were a senior in high school because he took the wrong medication for his blood pressure and had a heart attack.  You told her about how your obsession with old horror movies stemmed from his love for the classic monsters, like Frankenstein, Dracula, The Wolf Man, etc.  She told you about how her love for writing came from her mother.

You both cried and drank too much and stayed up too late, but you could honestly say that that was the best night you had in awhile.

And it had nothing to do with the way she screamed your name while you were knuckle deep inside of her with two of your fingers and your thumb pressing into her clit.

**_Laura_ **

You and Carmilla have gotten a lot closer since  _ The Second Incident _ .  There was no longer the question of whether you two liked each other or not.  You did.  You both knew it.  It was great.

Great was an understatement.  It was better than great.

She’s better than great.

She’s funny, reliable, intuitive, frank, sarcastic, compassionate (towards you), all kinds of attractive, witty...incredible at sex.  The list could fill a novel.

Maybe you were biased.  Maybe you didn’t care.

You were both done with the childish games.  Freaking  _ finally _ .

It took a little more effort on your part, but you had decided you were going to girl the Hell up and after she told you about her ex, you understood her knack for running from sticky situations, especially when it came to you.  She was scared.  She said she called her brother that night when she didn’t come home and she said they talked for hours about you.  She said he told her to take the leap, to let you care, to let you listen.  And that’s what you did.

You told her about why you left your dad back on the East coast and you told her about your mother and you cried on her shoulder when you remembered how frail your mom looked near the end.  She held you and rubbed your back, no questions asked, and whispered that it was okay, into your hair.  That she understood, that you should get it all out, that she was there for you.

She told you about her dad and she cried when she talked about his love for movies and you watched his favorites first out of the stack of classic horror movies you got her after sharing a bottle of the brand of whiskey you saw in the back of her closet and under her bed that was probably a few months old.

She showed you her engagement ring that Ell gave her then she threw it out the attic window into the front lawn at 2am because she said she hated the thing.  You got more satisfaction out of watching that then you probably should have.

The night ended when she captured your lips in a drunken kiss.  You undressed her as she undressed you with shaky, but determined hands.  There were no interruptions this time when you managed to get her on her back, your hair tangled in between her fingers, and her thighs holding your head in between her legs, crying out your name in between chopped curses.

She gave her thanks after she properly recovered by flipping you over and working you with her fingers until you were screaming her name as she marked you with her mouth over your pulse point.

You fell asleep on her naked chest after you gave her round two.  She tried to reciprocate, but you insisted it was okay that she didn’t.  She fell asleep shortly after with one hand on your lower back and the other holding yours at her side.

The next morning you made her get breakfast with you at a place near your work.  You pretended not to notice the glare of the diamond in the grass as you walked through the front gate on the property.

You held her hand the entire walk and she didn’t protest, only held on tighter.

You even paid for her black coffee and stack of pancakes that she drowned in syrup.  She said Ell and her mother never let her get anything that might cause a mess.  You watched her drop a piece of pancake into her lap and you watched her face turn bright red, but you only laughed and handed her a napkin and stole a piece of bacon from her plate.  You accidently missed your mouth and it broke and fell into your lap.  You heard her laugh.  Not just a breathy chuckle or a polite  _ haha _ .  A real laugh.  And you decided that that was your new favorite thing.

(Your favorite thing right after her moaning your name into the cool October air that circulated through the attic because of the poor insulation.)

You went back to work the next day.  She did too.

You only know that because you both got up at the same time.  You were going to let her shower first, thinking you were just going to throw your hair into a messy bun on top of your head.  But then you accidently walked in on her stark naked.  You could’ve sworn you heard her door shut after the water shut off in the shower.  Your mind was playing tricks on you, it seemed.  Because her bedroom door was very much open and she was very much still in the bathroom.

She eventually got her way and ended up paying up on her offer to make it even when she lifted you onto the bathroom counter, removed your sweats and Harry Potter boy shorts in one go, and lowered herself between your legs.  She had you coming undone, and coming, before your phone’s snooze alarm went off on your nightstand.

You ended up having to take a shower anyway and you were almost late to work.

You made sure to let Carmilla know in a text when you got to your desk.  She responded immediately with a blasé ‘ _ sorry cutie _ ’ that you read in her gravely tone that you imagined was accompanied with the hints of a smirk on her lips.  Less than an hour later you received another text.  Then another.  And another.

The first one was a ‘ _ maybe if you finished faster _ ’.  Your face immediately turned a bright pink that you felt all down your neck and up to the tips of your ears.  You had half a mind to respond with something along the lines of ‘ _ maybe if you were better with your fingers _ ’, but you knew the implication was a lie.  She was  _ good _ .  So you went to type in something else, but a different message popped up before you even had a chance.

The second message was an innocent ‘ _ would this help? _ ’.

You were confused for half a second before a picture popped up in your message thread of Carmilla in a pair of underwear with lace covering (or not covering, really) her ass.

When you didn’t respond right away because you were trying not to drop your phone or give way to the fact that your conversation just escalated exponentially and that you were suddenly  _ very _ turned on and  _ very _ uncomfortable, your phone buzzed with another text.

This time it was a ‘ _ how red is your face right now, Cupcake? _ ’

Your only response was to huff and slam your phone down onto your desk, face down, while you tried to relieve the pressure in between your legs by sitting at the edge of your seat with your legs open under your desk.  Jared eyed you suspiciously with a somehow knowing smirk.

That night, you made sure you got her back by showing her just how much that picture helped.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a majority of this while drinking...  
> Get ready for next chapter though, they go CAMPING. WITH LAURA'S DAD. IN THEIR OWN TENT. SO MANY OPPORTUNITIES FOR SINNING. AND I WILL TAKE ALL OF THEM.

**_Carmilla_ **

Sex became a regular thing for you and Laura after the two of you, in one way or another, admitted the involvement of feelings.  So, when sex stopped being a regular thing, you got worried.  During the months between October and March, the two of you got really close.  You started to pick up on things.  One thing being Laura’s mood changes and certain things about her behavior.  Especially in the beginning of March.

November passed without incident.  Everything was normal.  Or, normal for the two of you.  Most of the time, you would stay in Laura’s room with her.  Occasionally, she would stay in yours.  It wasn’t all sexual.  Sometimes she just laid on your stomach while you read and you played with her hair.  Sometimes you drank hot chocolate with her while she watched her nerd shows that you secretly enjoyed.  Sometimes you just wanted to be in the other’s presence.  You woke up together, you ate breakfast together, you sat next to each other at dinner.  It was incredibly domestic, but you oddly didn’t mind it.

The week of Thanksgiving, Laura visited her father on the East coast.  You stayed at the house with the dimwit squad and Will came over with Kirsch for _Friendsgiving_.  Perry cooked and refused everyone's help, Lafontaine managed to blow up the microwave and singe their eyebrows, but JP MacGyvered a new one, you and Will drank way too much wine, and Danny and Kirsch fought the entire night.  It was actually one of the best Thanksgivings you’ve ever had.  The only thing that would have made it better was if Laura was next to you at the table instead of your annoying brother.

Early the next morning, you caught the beanstalk sneaking out of Betty’s room where Kirsch was supposed to be staying for the night.  You simply raised an eyebrow at her before going on your way, but definitely texted Laura about it when you reached the attic.  She was over enthused about the whole thing.

You would never admit it, but you missed her that week.  And you made sure to show her just how much when she got back.

In December, Laura invited you to spend Christmas with her and her dad.  She invited Will too, but you told her he was going home to visit your mother.  And he was, but for only three days.  You left that part out because you secretly really wanted to go with her, but only you.  Not you and Will.  You told her you would be fine in the house with JP, but she insisted you go with her.  It only took twice for her to ask before you couldn’t ignore “The Pout” any longer.  So, you went.

Mr. Hollis was not what you expected at all, but the two of you quickly adjusted to each other.  He was Laura.  But a man. And 20 some years older.

He told you to call him Sherman when he started to pull out photo albums filled with pictures of Laura growing up.  You decided not to tell him that the two of you were simply friends, but with the benefit of occasional sex.  He didn’t question your relationship with his daughter anyway.

You spent the week beating Sherman in Chess while sipping eggnog and watching Christmas movies on his couch while Laura laid with her head in your lap and ate cookies in the shape of gingerbread people and snowflakes and pine trees with frosting lights and baubles.  Apparently Christmas was a big deal in the Hollis household.

On Christmas Eve, Laura made you help her decorate the tree and Sherman surprised you with a stocking with your name on it.  Laura wasn’t aware of the gift, if the color of her cheeks and the look of shocked embarrassment on her face was any indication.    He also included you in what Laura called “The Annual Christmas Pajama Exchange”.  Laura gave her dad a pair of sleep pants with Darth Vader all over them and Sherman got Laura a Doctor Who TARDIS onesie and you one to match.  You would never admit it, but your heart felt like it grew three sizes that day and you’d be damned if you didn’t feel like you were in some cliché Christmas special.

That night, you and Laura fell asleep on the couch in front of the burning fireplace in your Doctor Who onesies.  She told you it was her tradition, to stay up as late as she could, waiting for “Santa”.  You woke up a few hours later to Sherman placing pristinely wrapped boxes under the tree.  Laura was fast asleep.  Sherman told you she never made it past two in the morning.

Christmas day you and Laura exchanged presents.  It wasn’t arranged, neither of you agreed on it, it just happened.  You got her a bunch of Harry Potter nerd paraphernalia in her house colors.  Why you know she’s 100% a Hufflepuff?  You don’t want to talk about it.  The look on her face was entirely worth it though.  You also got her a leather bound notebook because you knew she was running out of space in her current one and you knew that’s what she did when she stayed up late at night when she thought you were asleep.

She got you a bookshelf.  And you couldn’t help yourself when you laughed at the half unwrapped box in your lap.  She told you she was getting tired of tripping over your books in the middle of your floor and her face immediately turned crimson at what that suggested to her father.  You loved it.

She also got you hardcover copies of  _ Dracula _ ,  _ Frankenstein _ , the  _ Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde _ ,  _ The Picture of Dorian Gray _ ,  _ The Phantom of the Opera, _ and one by the title of  _ Carmilla  _ because she thought it was hilarious.  You didn’t tell her you were already familiar with the novella and probably had it somewhere in your room.  The copy Laura got you would replace it anyway.

Sherman got you a red scarf, black gloves, and a black beanie.  Apparently he knitted them himself.  You were impressed to say the least.

He gave Laura a yellow scarf, yellow gloves, and a yellow beanie.  You weren’t surprised at all.  He also included several boxes of ridiculously expensive hot chocolate and a cheesy, personalized mug with a picture of him and Laura on it.  It was adorable.

Laura got him socks and a new wallet and a watch with a compass in it.  Apparently he was into hiking and camping.  He invited you to tag along the next time Laura went with him.  You didn’t give him a definitive answer, choosing to keep the fact that you were scared of the dark to yourself.  Laura also got him a new brownie pan because apparently she ruined his other one last year when she tried to make brownies by herself.  You took note of this and made a comment about that probably being the reason that Perry didn’t let Laura bake at the house.  She smacked you in the arm and pouted when Sherman started laughing along with you.

The two of you caught a flight back to LA the following Sunday with a care package from Sherman.

For New Year’s, Kirsch invited all of you to the Zeta’s frat house.  They were throwing a huge party to ring in the New Year.  Of course, the majority of you went.

Laura pulled you into a bathroom on the third floor a half hour before midnight and you spent the first few hours of the New Year with Laura’s head between your legs and your fingers pulling at her hair.

They say however you start the New Year, reflects how the rest of the year will turn out.

You hoped to Hogwarts that was true.

Your Valentine’s Day was spent in the attic, alone.  Until Laura found you with a stack of movies under her arm and a bottle of your whiskey under the other.  The two of you had your own Anti-Valentine’s Day party by yourselves wrapped up in old quilts, watching and making fun of the people in the romance films Laura brought.  She also got you a single rose and she brought up a small box of chocolate that the two of you shared.  She didn't say the chocolate was for you, but you had an inkling.

The two of you didn’t have sex, but you didn’t want to.  You were content with how the night turned out, Laura asleep on your chest, her heartbeat matching yours.

Then March came.

Laura wouldn’t outright deny you, but she would make excuses when you would bring up sex.  She started acting differently.  She started hanging around the house less and less.  When you would ask where she was all day and well into the night, she told you she was busy with work.  That was complete bullshit.

She did this nose twitch thing when she lied.  It was involuntary and gave her away every time.

By the middle of March, you were really starting to worry.

Laura would forget things.  Things she would never normally forget.  One Monday she forgot her entire messenger bag on her way out the door in the morning.  A few days later, she forgot to brush her teeth.  A few days after that, she almost walked out of the house without pants on when she went to grab the mail.  You laughed it off at the time, put in your two cents, and went about your day.  But when Laura forgot to set her alarm for three days in a row, you stopped joking about it and decided to ask Perry what was going on.

She was confused.  Not about what you were talking about, she knew exactly what it was you were talking about.  She was confused as to why Laura hadn’t “told you”.  Told you what?  You obviously had no fucking clue.  Perry told you to ask Laura about “it”.  Now, you were the one that was confused.

You confronted Laura the next time you saw her.  She told you she was busy with school.  You called her out on her bullshit and she started crying.  You immediately started to backtrack because holy shit you didn’t actually mean to make her cry, you were just worried about her.  She looked completely exhausted.  There were dark circles under her eyes, her skin was paler than you remembered, she looked small.  Well,  _ smaller _ .  Okay, probably not the time for short jokes.

Anyway, you didn’t like it.  You missed the bright and radiant Laura.  The girl that would blind you just from smiling.  This girl looked like the light had been completely sucked out of her.

She ended up crying into your chest.  You held her.  For what seemed like hours.  On the floor of her bedroom.  She just cried and cried and you rocked her back and forth and you rubbed her back and occasionally left a kiss at her hairline.

When she stopped enough to speak, she told you she was sorry.  You were confused,  _ again _ .  You didn’t know what the hell she would be sorry for, so you told her that.  She said she was sorry for lying to you and that she didn’t mean to avoid you, it was just something that happened.

Then she told you March was the month her mother passed away.  More specifically,  _ that day _ , 10 years ago.  And suddenly you understood everything.

And you knew you never wanted to see Laura in so much pain ever again.

**_Laura_ **

You didn’t mean to avoid Carmilla for three weeks.  In fact, it was the complete opposite of what you wanted.  But it just happened.  It wasn’t just Carmilla though.  You naturally drew away from everyone around March.  It was your subconscious’ way of reminding you what happened.  As if you actually needed reminding.  You weren’t that young when your mother passed away.  You remember it vividly.  Sometimes you wish you were younger when she got sick so you didn’t remember the way her bones poked through her paper thin skin, or the way her eyes were always clouded with the amount of pain medication she was on.  But then you wouldn’t remember the good times.  The times when she wasn’t sick.  When she would take you to the park to feed the ducks or take you to the library to pick out any book you wanted, or when she would help you with your homework at the kitchen table and reward you with her homemade cookies for every answer you got correct.

It was a constant battle.  You wanted to remember her, but every time you did, you also remembered the bad times.  No matter how hard you tried not to.

It seemed like everything was fine and dandy until March first rolled around.

When you went to visit your dad for a week over Thanksgiving, Carmilla texted you nonstop.  She constantly complained about how cold her room was, about how the house was too quiet without you tripping up the stairs or running into the door wall in the dark.  You pretended you didn’t miss her just as much as she clearly missed you.  Her and Will FaceTimed you after they had been drinking the night of Friendsgiving.  They were completely wasted and carefree and Carmilla didn’t hold her tongue when she admitted she was counting down the days until you came back.  She probably didn’t remember her confession the next morning.  And you never told her.

You finally got the nerve to invite Carmilla over to your dad’s for Christmas nearly a week after he approved.  You knew Carmilla wouldn’t be going home, you also knew Laf and Perry spent the holidays with Perry’s family in Europe, Danny, Mel, SJ, and Natalie all went to visit their own families in their home towns further south, Betty was going back to New Jersey to pick up her boyfriend from Princeton and then they were headed to her parents estate, only JP stayed behind during the holidays.

When you asked her the first time, she said no.  Not outright, but in a kind of round about way so she wouldn’t hurt your feelings because she probably didn't want to feel like a burden to you and your dad.  Except, you knew her.  Enough, anyway.  She wanted to go.  You could see it in her eyes.  There was a little light that shone in them when you asked.  So, you asked again.  She told you that Will would be going home to their mother’s and JP would probably be in his room for the entire time.  You told her that was the exact reason she should join you.  You didn't tell her, but you didn't think anyone should be alone, especially over the holidays.  You asked again.  She said yes, almost without any hesitation.  And no matter what she says, you did not pout on purpose to get her to go.

Your dad was ecstatic when you brought her home.  He acted all tough when she first walked through the door, but wrapped her in one of his bear hugs not 30 seconds later.  You're pretty positive he thought she was your girlfriend, no matter how many times you told him she wasn't anything more than your friend, who was a girl.  You would never admit it, but you kind of liked the thought of being Carmilla's girlfriend.  And you kind of hoped she felt the same.

Carmilla was crazy good at Chess.  She was even better at  _ beating  _ your dad at Chess...and Trivial Pursuit...and Backgammon...and Settlers of Catan.  (You didn't even know she knew what that was)  She basically crushed him in every game he pulled out of the game closet.  It was entertaining to watch.  Also, your heart might have swelled at the excited look Carmilla got every time she won.  She only barely managed to suppress a fist pump every time.

You made her decorate the tree with you on Christmas Eve.  She told you she would mess it up, that she hadn't decorated a tree since she was at least nine and even then she was  _ nine  _ so her skills were subpar.  That was her reasoning.  You put her in charge of the lights anyway.  The tree never looked better.  Who knew she was so good at decorating for a holiday she pretended to hate.

Your dad surprised the both of you when he pulled out a personalized stocking with Carmilla's name on it.  She looked like she was going to cry when he gave it to her and had her hang it on the mantel of the fireplace next to yours.  When he gave her a Doctor Who TARDIS onesie that matched yours, she got the same look in her eye.  You decided not to comment on it and instead committed the look to memory.

Later, when the two of you were laying on the couch, she admitted that this Christmas was one of the best Christmases she celebrated since her father died.  She told you her mother never put any effort into the holiday and that her and her brother, and occasionally her sister, usually just spent it drinking eggnog in their pajamas and exchanging small gifts in her apartment.  That was their tradition.  This year, she told you, their mother broke it when she decided to actually celebrate.  Apparently, she was holding a large gathering and had invited the both of them, but Carmilla wasn't on speaking terms with her mother and declined the invitation through Will and ignoring her mother every way she could.  You didn't question Carmilla's relationship with her mother, she made it clear her mother was an evil wench of a woman.  You didn't disagree when she told you some of the stories from her childhood.

The next morning, Christmas morning, you pulled out the gift (well,  _ gifts _ , you couldn't help yourself) that you got Carmilla.  She ended up getting you a gift too.  You found it hilarious how in sync the two of you were sometimes.

Your dad made the two of you a set of scarves, beanies, and gloves.  Hers were black and red, yours all yellow.  She wasn't expecting the gifts.  Especially from your dad.  You think that maybe she didn't receive a lot of gifts from people who didn't want anything in return.  That afternoon you made it your mission to make sure you got her a gift for every gift-giving holiday in the future.  The look she gave you was entirely worth it.

After you and your father exchanged gifts, he invited Carmilla to go camping with the two of you.  She didn't say  _ yes _ , but she didn't say  _ no  _ either.  You don't know if she even likes camping, but you know she enjoys your blanket forts and when you camp out in the attic so you hope she'll at least think about it.  Your camping trips with your dad are your favorite and having Carmilla there would make it so much better, you think.  Carmilla definitely got along with your father enough to spend a week in the middle of the woods with him.

Carmilla finished three of the books you got her before the two of you left that weekend.  She finished another on the plane ride home.  You found yourself smiling every time she pulled out another one from her bag.  You know for a fact she brought several of her own, you sat on her bed while she packed them.  You didn't point it out though.

New Year's, you and Carmilla got drunk and had sex in a third story bathroom of the Zeta house where her brother and his friends were throwing a New Year's Eve party.  Anything above the first story was off limits to guests, but you snuck up a private staircase in the kitchen and no one disturbed you all night.  You were technically staying there anyway, anyone who saw you that knew you would have thought you were simply going to bed.  Saying you entered the New Year on a good note would be an understatement.

You were going to go out for Valentine's Day.  You were going to go to some club that was having some stupid special for singles.  You were going to get drunk and dance and pretend you didn't care about Valentine's Day.  But then you noticed that Carmilla was absent during dinner and you didn't see her for lunch or breakfast, you didn't remember her even leaving her room.  Which meant she was either still in her room or she was tucked away in the attic.  You didn't go out.  Well, you didn't go out to the club.  You went out and bought a rose from the only flower shop still open at 7pm on Valentine's Day.  You went out and bought chocolate in a cheesy heart-shaped box with a bow on it.  And you went out and bought Carmilla's whiskey because you knew she didn't have a bottle lying around.  Then you scavenged the house's movie collection and gathered up all of the cheesiest Valentine's Day movies you could find and you crashed Carmilla's Anti-Valentine's Day party she was having in the attic by herself.  You scared the shit out of her when you poked your head into the doorway and she tried to cover up the squeak that came out of her with an eye roll and the clearing of her throat.  She was reading  _ Dracula  _ again.

She tried to hide her smile when you threw the rose and box of chocolates at her and put a movie in without a word.  She didn’t hide it very well.

It was one of the best Valentine's Days you had had in awhile.

March snuck up on you.

You were so preoccupied with work and there was Carmilla and the sex.  You didn't notice it was the last day of February until you happened to look at the calendar that hung on the fridge when you were going to get a glass of orange juice.  It was like your brain finally caught up to the fact and a large weight settled on your shoulders and in your chest.  You never got the orange juice.

You felt heavy.  Everything was heavy.  Your arms felt like they had sand in them instead of bones and muscle.  Your legs felt like they had weights tied to them that you were forced to drag everywhere you went.  Your head felt like it was filled with bricks or rocks or more fucking sand.  It didn't matter, you just felt heavy.

Time started to get away from you.  You started staying late at work, simply because you didn't notice everyone else leaving or that the sun had long since set.  You started waking up late and had to rush to get out of the house and into the office on time.  The days you didn’t work, you left the house anyway and didn’t come back until late.

Carmilla tried to talk to you, she tried to ask you what was wrong.  She tried.  You either didn’t answer her or you answered her in one worded lies that didn’t satisfy anyone's definition of an answer, let alone hers.  But you were tired.  You slept when you could, but you were still just  _ so  _ tired.  Explaining to her why you couldn’t fucking function like a normal person would have taken too much out of you.

Carmilla didn’t press too hard though.  And for that, you were grateful.

You didn’t like the looks Perry and Laf gave you.  They knew what March brought out of you, they expected it.  You expected Perry’s constant mothering.  You expected Laf’s attempts at distractions.  You were grateful for them too, but sometimes you just wanted to sleep and be alone.

On the actual anniversary of your mother’s death, Carmilla tried to get an answer out of you again.  She barely got through the question when you started sobbing into her chest.  She was arm and comforting and you let yourself be held by her.  You told her.  You told her everything.  You told her you were sorry, you told you were exhausted, you told her it wasn’t work, it wasn’t school, it wasn’t whatever bullshit excuse you gave her.  She didn’t hold it against you when you told her the real reason.  She held you even tighter.

You fell asleep in her arms, on the floor of your bedroom.  You vaguely remembered her laying you down in your bed hours later and climbing under the covers and wrapping her arms around you.  You woke up the next morning in the same position.

It took a couple days for things to get back to normal.  Well, your normal.  You and Carmilla’s normal.

One day at breakfast she told you she would very much like to go camping with you and your dad.  You called him immediately.  He told you he had already bought her a sleeping bag and the two of you a separate tent.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura and Carmilla go camping with Sherman, Carmilla's afraid of the dark, and they get their own tent.  Bye. (maniacal laughing in the background)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly wasn’t sure about this whole story, I feel like it’s just a lot of brain barf and it’s not my best writing, but I’ve gotten a great response from it and I’m glad you’re all enjoying it.  Your comments make me more determined to finish chapters and I know I don’t respond to them all, but I do read every single one (sometimes more than once) and I just wanted to say THANK YOU.  Now that that’s over with, commence the sin.

**_Carmilla_ **

Sherman didn’t bring up camping again until early May.  He suggested Memorial Day weekend and after you and Laura confirmed, he reserved a spot at his favorite state park and it was set.  You and Laura would fly out to the East Coast after a half day of work on the Thursday before, get a good night's rest in a real bed at Laura’s dad’s house, and head out on the road early the next morning.

Laura told you the park was a five hour drive from her dad’s house, putting you there just before noon, meaning you would be leaving  _ real  _ fucking early and you were not impressed, but whatever you were going camping with  _ Laura _ .  Laura  _ fucking  _ Hollis.  And her dad, but you didn’t have to share a tent with him, so that was a plus.

After the drive, the three of you would then check in with the park ranger, have a light lunch, and hike through the woods until you found the site.  All Laura told you about the campsite itself was that it was in the middle of the woods, just off the footpath, there were waterfalls about a three mile hike from you, and one and a half miles in the other direction, there were mountains.  It was quite literally in the middle of the woods.

She also mentioned that the showers and “real” toilets were a mile hike down some “sketchy” dirt path through the woods and that unless you wanted to make that trek everyday, you should plan on only showering a couple times and only using the bathrooms for emergencies.  Apparently, though, you got your own bucket to piss in AND your own roll of toilet paper.  Joy.

Laura told you to pack light, but pack smart.  You had no idea what the fuck that meant.  You had never been camping before and you made sure to tell her that.  She ended up packing for you while you watched from the center of your bed and she went through your dresser drawers.  You’re pretty sure you fell asleep after ten minutes.

She gave you her old Swissgear backpack for your clothes and toiletries and whatever else she managed to shove in there, along with a smaller daypack filled with “everything you might need during a hike, or just a day of lounging around” - Laura’s words, not yours.  Because apparently you “lounged around” a lot.  Whatever.  Laura exaggerated a lot of things.

You didn’t know jack shit about camping so you took the packs with a shrug of your shoulders.

When you eventually did get curious enough to look, you found them almost obsessively organized with literally everything you could think of that you might need during the week.  Without completely ruining her packing system, you poked around the bags.  In the larger backpack were all of your clothes, neatly folded, then rolled.  You could see at least a handful of underwear (you pretended you didn’t blush when you realized she went through your underwear drawer) and socks, a bathing suit you didn’t remember having, your favorite beanie, one of Laura’s baseball hats from the stupid team her and her dad like, your glasses (in their case -  _ God, this girl was good _ ), your small bag of toiletries with travel size bottles of your shampoo, conditioner, and body wash.  She even made sure to pack you a few books.  When Laura wasn’t in the room, you also made sure to shove your small pill bottle into the bag from the back of the drawer in your nightstand just in case you needed them.  Then when she told you to, you placed a change of clothes for the next day on top of the bag, along with your pair of black converse.

The daypack was similarly packed.  Methodically organized, to a tee.  She had a plastic, reusable water bottle in one of the side compartments, a collapsible umbrella on the other side, your sunglasses attached to one of the shoulder straps, a compass and whistle attached to the other, there was a small first aid and sewing kit tucked in there that you definitely did not roll your eyes at, your pocket knife was in the front pocket with a fire starter, a flashlight and a headlamp with extra batteries were inside plastic Ziploc bags with a paper map, and you noticed some clothesline and duct tape.  Your mind immediately went to what else that could be used for, but you shut that down quickly because  _ no, Carmilla _ , that will  _ not  _ be happening on a fucking camping trip with your crush and her  _ dad _ .   You couldn’t help yourself, it was basically a setup.  And you hadn’t had sex in almost a week, you couldn’t help the way your brain converted to that of a teenage boy’s when you were incredibly sexually frustrated.  You had to shake your head to rid any remaining thoughts of Laura naked and her arms tied to your headboard with your face trapped between her thighs.

You noticed a bottle of sunscreen, insect repellent, the roll of toilet paper she was boasting about earlier, and a tarp with a garbage bag attached to it with a rubber band.  There was a towel folded and rolled and a hammock folded in it’s bag that you didn’t really question.  Then you found a notebook with a few pens and a sticky note attached to the front, that read:

“ _ For when you don’t want to read, but you’re too busy brooding to hang out with me and my dad because I know you don’t like fun things.  PS - Don’t forget your phone, phone charger, and headphones.  PSS - You’ll also probably want your blanket and pillow! _ ”

It was signed with Laura’s name and a smiley face.  She was too cute.  But she was wrong about the brooding.  You did not  _ brood _ .  And you could totally have fun.  You had lots of fun that night when you climbed into Laura’s bed and made her beg you to stop tickling her as payback for that passive aggressive poke at your “brooding” personality.  No, that wasn’t a confession to your broodiness, that was just an acknowledgment that Laura had said it.  Or something.  Whatever.  You didn’t brood.  You thought intellectually with a scowl on your face.  That was it.

You left the following day with your bags and Laura’s carry-on that you shoved a pair of clothes in each for when you would stay at Sherman’s and you tucked in extra books for the plane and car ride.  You also shoved your phone charger and headphones in there, and you watched Laura put a camera in the bag with an extra battery and another memory card.  You didn’t question her on it.  You didn’t have to.  She told you she liked to document everything and punctuated her statement with a sudden flash in your face.  You narrowed your eyes at her but she just took another picture and smiled like she was the happiest person in the world, so you couldn’t really be mad at her.  You both boarded the plane, you weren’t as enthusiastic as Laura was, but she got excited over everything.  You didn’t.  Well, you didn’t outwardly show it.

When you landed, Sherman picked the two of you up from the airport and the three of you ate dinner in some diner in the small town where Laura grew up.  You ended up getting a BLT, while Laura and her dad both got burgers and fries.  For dessert, Laura made you get a chocolate milkshake and you ate Laura’s fries with it.  You would never give her the satisfaction of admitting you liked it, especially after teasing her about it.

Back at the house, Sherman pulled out a box.  It was a large box and he was excited to show you.  (Laura obviously got a lot of her traits from her father.)  In the box was a tent for you and Laura, your own sleeping bag that he said he “happened to find on sale”, a sleeping pad?  (whatever the fuck that was), and a pair of hiking boots and water shoes that used to be Laura’s.  Laura packed them into your bag, keeping them together with rubber bands, and strapped the sleeping bag and pad to the bottom before she stacked your bags on top of hers by the front door, said goodnight to Mr. Hollis, and you followed her upstairs.

You were supposed to be getting a “good night’s rest”, but you couldn’t stop your mind from running.  Mostly about Laura.  Mostly about the fact that she was snoring lightly beside you with her hand tangled in yours.  But there was a small part of your brain, the one you hated, that kept reminding you about your small, inconvenient fear of the dark.  Laura had her small owl lamp on now, but out there in the woods?  There would be no lamp.  And you felt your heartbeat pick up slightly in anticipation of how the following night was going to go.

The following night didn’t go...well.

You slept in the back seat the entire car ride to the park, having exhausted yourself the night before.  Five hours and you were out cold the minute the car started moving.  Something about the gentle purr of the engine and the open windows lulled you into dreamland.  When Laura woke you up, she was staring down at you from the passenger seat, her hand on your forearm and a slightly concerned look on her face that you ignored before sitting up and stretching, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.  Her dad was in the ranger’s cabin checking in, but that didn’t take long and soon enough he was parking the car and unloading the packs from the trunk, while Laura passed out sandwiches and filled up water bottles with the pump.

You ate your sandwich in silence, leaning up against the car, with one foot propped against the wheel and your head resting against the back window, your sunglasses covering your eyes.  It was a simple turkey sandwich with avocado, lettuce, tomato, hard-boiled egg, and mustard.  Laura made a face when you put the mustard on.  You made the same face when she put Oreos on a ham and cheese sandwich and her dad made a turkey sandwich with potato chips weird when he added Nutella and bananas to it.  You were starting to see where Laura got some of her quirks from.

After lunch, the three of you gathered your bags (Laura had to help you with yours), put on sunscreen and your boots, and hiked to the campsite as planned.  What wasn’t planned was how much actual fucking hiking you did.

The trail was  _ only  _ a mile and a half, but it might as well have been ten with the terrain the way it was.  The ground was uneven, there were steep inclines that you had to climb up, you slipped down a rocky hill and about barreled into a tree before you finally found your footing again, you managed to trip on branches and vines in the middle of the footpath several times, you cut your hand on a thorn and snagged your ankle in the thorn bush, you’re pretty sure there was dirt in your mouth.  It was great.   _ So _ .   _ Great _ .

At least Laura made sure to kiss every cut you got after she cleaned and bandaged them up.

But that wasn’t even the hard part.  You finally got to the path that would lead you to the campsite and you almost cried.  You wouldn’t even consider the path a  _ path _ .  You could barely tell it was even there it was so overgrown.  Sherman had to practically cut his way through with a machete that you were slightly impressed with.  He literally looked like Indiana Jones and the minute the thought popped into your head, you burst out laughing and scared the shit out of Laura who was two steps in front of you.  When you calmed down enough to tell them you weren’t delirious and that Sherman just looked like a more prepared Dr. Henry, you and Laura burst out laughing again and you noticed a small smile appear on Sherman’s face as he commented that there were no ancient tombs in these woods, nor were there physics defying booby traps.

He made a bigger show of cutting down the brush and added sound effects after that.

It didn’t last long, though.  You arrived at the site quicker than you expected and you were never more grateful to see a large patch of dirt and pine needles.  You could’ve kissed the ground.  You opted for Laura’s lips instead, but quickly shot that down too and pretended the thought never crossed your mind.  Or that you were blushing.  Because you didn’t blush.  That was not a thing you did.

Sherman immediately started getting to work on building a fire and collecting logs while Laura started to unpack the tents.  You figured they had all that covered and didn’t waste any time before collapsing onto the nearby picnic table, laying down across the top of it and digging out a book from the bag Laura packed you.  You didn’t acknowledge Laura’s eye roll.

You read for as long as you could before the sun had set too low below the horizon and your eyes were straining to see the words on the page.  You felt your stomach sink slightly at the realization, but you ignored it and marked your page in the book.  You lazily rolled off of the table with as much nonchalance as you could muster and found Laura and her father heating up hot dogs and toasting buns over the flames of the small fire between the two tents.  Laura looked up at you with a small smile when you started walking over toward the empty spot on the log next to where she sat.  A small smile of your own easily found it’s way onto your face as the uneasy feeling in your stomach was quickly replaced with butterflies.  (You would never again admit that that even happened.)  Laura handed you a hot dog fork with a hot dog already on it and told you to slowly turn it over the flame like she was doing with the bun on her fork.

You turned it over a couple times before you felt Laura’s eyes on you.  You turned your head with a raised eyebrow, but she turned away before your eyes met.  You noticed how the light from the fire reflected in her brown orbs and you only realized you were staring when Laura reached over and rescued your poor wiener from burning any further between the logs.  Laura was laughing though and you didn’t really care about how charred your hot dog was when she eventually put it out of it’s misery.  You ate it anyway.  At least the bun was perfectly toasted and the ketchup and mustard masked the taste of burnt meat.

The three of you took bites in between Laura and her dad sharing ghost stories and for dessert Laura pulled out graham crackers, heath bars,  and marshmallows for s’mores.  You just went along with it because Laura was an expert on sweets and what could be wrong with marshmallow and heath between two halves of a graham cracker.  Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  You ate three.  Even with your completely black marshmallows, they were delicious.

By the time the sun had completely set, you were full, content, and actually getting pretty tired.  The yawn that you tried to hide told you as much.  Laura caught sight of it though and was soon yawning along with you, causing Sherman to yawn as well as let out a loud chuckle.  You laughed and apologized while Sherman began separating the logs in the already dying fire to nearly distinguish it completely.  Your laugh died in your throat as you quickly realized how dark it had actually gotten without the light from the fire and you felt your body tense and your senses immediately heighten.  Laura must have sensed your discomfort because she placed a hand on your knee and your body involuntarily jerked away from her touch.  You didn’t mean to.  You weren’t expecting it.  She looked hurt anyway.

You tried to ignore the look in her eyes and the way her hand still hovered over where your knee had just been, but then she opened her mouth and you knew what was about to come out of it so you cleared your throat instead before wordlessly getting up and nearly sprinting to the tent.  You managed to get the flap unzipped, albeit with shaky hands, and into the tent before either Sherman or Laura could ask any questions.  That was when you noticed you didn’t have your bag with you and your stomach plummeted further.  You left it on the picnic table on the other side of the campsite.  It wouldn’t have been a big deal, Laura had grabbed the small bag with your blanket and pillow, you could survive a night without your sleeping bag and pad.  What you really needed was the little orange bottle half filled with little white capsules.  But Laura didn’t know about that.  No one did, except your brother.  And even he chose to ignore the fact most of the time.

Ell always thought you were childish for having to sleep with a nightlight.  You had to agree with her though.  You did feel like a child.  Especially now.  Cowering from something that couldn’t physically hurt you.  But your five year old self didn’t know that.  Now, logically, you knew it wasn’t the dark you were afraid of.  It was what you couldn’t see that was in the dark.  And what you associated with the dark.  But you never told Ell the real reason.

You thought, maybe, someday, that you would like to tell Laura.

You could hear Laura and her father talking outside the tent, but your heart was thumping too loud for any of the muffled sounds to be translated into words you could make out.  Then the tent door was opening and Laura was in front of you and it wasn’t dark anymore.  You could chalk that up to the fact that she was holding a small lantern in her hand, but you were convinced it had more to do with the way she looked at you.  You don’t remember ever telling her about your pathetic fear, but you were suddenly so overcome with gratitude that you didn’t care whether she knew or not.  The darkness was gone and she was there and you were okay.  For the most part.

Well, you would be.

She placed the lantern at your feet, opened her sleeping bag, and wordlessly pulled you into her side.  You didn’t even use your pillow.  Hers proved to be more than sufficient.  You even managed to sleep through the night without one of your nightmares.  Or, if you had one, you didn’t remember it and she didn’t mention it.  You weren’t going to stress over something that may or may not have happened, so you didn’t bring it up either.

Laura was up before you the next morning, as per usual.  You crawled out of the open tent to find her and her father frying eggs and bacon over the fire.  You didn’t realize how hungry you were until your stomach growled something fierce.  Laura giggled and your heart melted into a pool of mush, you ignored it though and took your seat on the log next to her, giving her a small smile.  Sherman handed you a travel mug with instant coffee in it and you nodded your thanks as you sat down.  You spent breakfast eating in silence, Laura and her father animatedly discussing the plans for the rest of the day.  Neither of them seemed to mind your lack of participation in the conversation.

That day was a rest day.  For you.  Laura and her father played Frisbee and kicked around a ball for a bit after Sherman made a light lunch and they played Settlers of Catan.  Laura won, but you secretly think Sherman let her win.  He was looking a bit exasperated towards the end there, especially when Laura kept rolling a six and ended up with more wheat than you thought was even possible.  You simply observed the two from where you lazily lounged the entire day inside your tent, a book in hand, sunglasses blocking your eyes from the sun shining through the flap.  You might’ve drifted off once or twice.

After Laura nearly fell off the bench she was sitting on from cheering too enthusiastically, which earned her a snort from you, Sherman started picking up the game, not really seeming too defeated that he lost.  He left Laura to finish putting away the pieces though, when he claimed that he needed to go ‘ _ number two _ ’.  You watched Laura’s face turn at least three shades darker as he left to go hike the trail to the bathroom.

Laura finished packing up the game and when she was finished, brought it back into your tent.  But it never made it into her backpack.  Sherman wasn’t even gone for a full minute before she was in your lap, your book greedily pulled from your grasp, and warm, soft hands were snaking their way under your shirt while hungry lips were pushing themselves into yours.  Not that you were complaining, of course.  You would never complain about those hands cupping your breasts or...or...or taking your shirt off?  When did that happen?  Again, you weren’t complaining, just slightly impressed.  Or maybe you should’ve been a bit worried as to how she actually managed to get your shirt off when you were positive her mouth never left yours.  You chucked it up to sorcery.  She was into all that Harry Potter crap, right?

As it turned out, it didn’t matter.  Because seconds later your shorts seemed to join your shirt in the corner of the tent.  Again, sorcery was sure to be involved.  You could’ve sworn both of her hands were kneading your chest the entire time.

You definitely felt one of her hands make it’s way down your stomach and to the waist of your bathing suit bottoms though.  That was not sorcery.  More like the touch of a god, you’re sure.  Too much?  Not even close.  Which was funny because you were pretty close to combusting if she didn’t move her hand a convenient three inches lower and just  _ touched  _ you for the love of all that is holy.  You just needed her to touch you.   _ There _ .

And you couldn’t help the needy growl that erupted from your throat when she started moving her hand slower than a fucking snail with a two ton brick tied to it’s shell.

But that was as far as she got.  Because not 20 seconds later, Sherman was bounding through the clearing of the camp, yelling something about hearing a bear, a can of bear spray in his hand, held out like he was prepared to attack anything in his way, despite bears not actually living in these parts.

Laura was off of you just as fast, your book shoved back into your grasp, your sunglasses recentered on your nose.  And she was on the other side of the tent, her back to the entrance, while she put the board game away with a very noticeable blush rising up her neck.  You mentally patted yourself on the back for putting your bathing suit on that morning.

Sherman either didn’t notice, or was too busy looking for a bear that didn’t exist to notice the two of you in different states of flustered embarrassment.  He did notice that your book was upside down though.

That night for dinner, Sherman made grilled cheese and heated up some soup he made previously.  It was good, you had to admit.  It was some homemade concoction of broth and carrots and potatoes and beef and there was something else in there that you couldn’t identify, but it pulled the meal together brilliantly.

Shortly after, Sherman said his goodnights, leaving Laura to tend to the fire, before he made his way inside his tent.  Apparently it was going to be an early start the next day and he suggested you all get some good rest.

And you did.  Eventually.

But the second Sherman’s tent flap was zipped shut and his lantern was off, Laura was in your lap, your shirt wrinkled in her grasp, her mouth on yours.

Sleep was the last thing on your mind.  You were entirely too focused on the hand undoing the button on your shorts and the set of hips that were practically  _ grinding  _ into yours.  Her body was nearly flush against you, the only room available occupied by Laura’s hand in your pants, her fingers teasing you through your bathing suit that was more than likely useless for the rest of the week.  But you couldn’t care less about your ruined bathing suit.

Laura’s other hand was tangled in the hair on the back of your skull.  She would tug on it whenever she needed air and you would gasp every time, without fail.  It was a bit pathetic, you have to admit, but your body felt like it was literally on fire everywhere she touched you and your senses were on overdrive.  She didn’t move her other hand any lower though.  And that was what you desperately needed.  So, you couldn’t really help it when she pulled on your hair a little too hard and a whine escaped your throat, causing her to pull her hand from your pants only to practically slap it over your mouth in a desperate attempt to keep you quiet.

You nearly imploded.

You could smell yourself on her hand and the look in her eyes wasn’t helping with the ache in between your legs.  You must’ve had that same look in yours though because suddenly it was a lot darker out and you were being dragged to your tent by the one girl you didn’t mind being dragged around by.  (Truthfully though, you’d follow her anywhere, so was she really dragging you?)

You almost fell when you tripped and stubbed your toe because no matter how composed you looked on the outside, your legs were practically jelly by that point.  Her hand was immediately over your mouth again when you yelped, more out of surprise than pain.  You made sure to mumble a quiet sorry after making sure you hadn’t woken up Sherman.

You ended up on your back, your shorts and shirt thrown into a corner of the tent, much like earlier that afternoon.  The only difference was that your bathing suit top and bottoms shortly followed.  And were replaced by firm grips and an eager mouth that was careful to only leave hickies where they were sure to be covered by your bathing suit, i.e. your most sensitive areas.  You were sure your soul actually left your body at one point.

**_Laura_ **

You never actually noticed how vocal Carmilla was during sex until she had to be silent.  She was normally as quiet as a soft breeze when she was just walking around the house, but apparently you were  _ just that good _ .  Because she absolutely could not stop the noises that managed to come out of her throat when you were spelling out secret confessions in between her thighs.  Or simply just touching her.  Or, technically, I guess you were teasing her.  You couldn’t blame her then, but still.

She was horrible at being quiet.

Oh, the irony.

You tried holding your hand over her mouth.  She tried holding her  _ own  _ hand over her mouth.  She tried biting her arm, covering her face with a pillow,  _ biting  _ the pillow.  Biting  _ your hand _ .

Eventually you just gave up and started playing music low enough not to wake your dad, but what you hoped was loud enough that he couldn't hear Carmilla whimpering when you hit _ just the right spot _ .  Over and over and over again.

At least she tried, right?  But you were definitely never going to let her live it down.

And you would certainly never be telling her just how turned on it made it.  Or how you secretly didn’t want her to muffle the sounds that she made.

The next morning, your dad woke you up before the sun with pancakes and fruit.  Carmilla wasn’t enthused about the prospect of beating the sun and immediately started grumbling about it.  But then your dad brought up that he heard some sort of small animal in distress last night and she shut up and ate the rest of her breakfast in silence.  Especially after he tried replicating the sound to see if we had heard it.

You only managed to keep yourself from laughing too hard by shoving blueberry pancake into your mouth.

You were positive her face couldn’t have gotten any more red.

After breakfast, your dad made you change into your ‘ _ hiking gear _ ’.  The sun had yet to rise and you were sure Carmilla was going to fall asleep any second if the three of you didn’t start moving.  She had already had two cups of coffee and it didn’t look like it was doing much of anything in terms of keeping her eyes open.  It was adorable.

You helped Carmilla with her boots and made sure she had her daypack packed and ready to go before yours or it would never have happened, you’re sure.  You were just thankful she managed to get dressed and eat by herself.

You set off not too long after that, your dad leading the way down a dirt path, Carmilla in front of you, so you could make sure she didn’t lag too far behind him.  She actually managed to keep up, despite her eyes being half closed.

It wasn’t that much later that your dad lead you through an opening in the trees and started laying out an old hand knit blanket in the clearing at the top of a cliff.  You knew the spot, the two of you went every time you went camping together.  But Carmilla didn’t.  You lead her over to the blanket and sat her down and she watched you with a raised eyebrow as you simply stared at the edge of the cliff with a smile on your face.  She was still watching you when three minutes and 47 seconds passed and the sun started making it’s way above the horizon.  You had to physically turn her head to face the cliff edge.  When she saw what all the hype was about, her mouth actually fell open and the only thing going through your head at that moment was ‘ _ beautiful _ ’.  You might’ve unconsciously whispered it, but Carmilla didn’t comment on it.

You weren’t talking about the sunrise.  But judging by the pink tint of her cheeks, you think she knew that.

When the sky was back to blue, your dad packed up the blanket, handed the two of you a granola bar and leftover fruit from breakfast, told you to drink water and apply sunscreen, and the three of you were off again.

It was the waterfalls day.  You knew it, your dad knew it, but Carmilla was left in the dark about it.  You wanted it to be a surprise.  You wanted to see her face when she saw the falls for the first time, when she witnessed the natural beauty for herself, instead of secondhand from your father’s stories.

She was definitely surprised, if the ‘ _ holy shit _ ’ that came out of her mouth was any indication.  Your dad didn’t even comment on her slip up.  He simply looked over to you from Carmilla’s other side with a smile on his face, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and said, “Holy shit, indeed, kid.”

You don’t think you ever saw Carmilla blush more than she did in the presence of your father.

You lov-  _ liked  _ it a little more than you probably should have.

You made Carmilla jump from the falls with you into the deep pool of water underneath even though you could tell she was scared shitless.  She said she didn't feel like dying today and that she wasn’t finished with what she started last night.  You thought you finished just fine, but you weren’t going to complain, especially if she was insinuating what you thought she was.  You told her to trust you though, and she said she did completely.  You nearly melted into a pile of mush at her feet.

The two of you leapt over the edge of the cliff hand in hand and didn’t let go until you both broke the surface of the water, laughing and smiling like fools.  Your dad soon followed and the Tarzan screech that came out of his mouth on his way down was enough to have Carmilla giggling, treading water beside you.

She was beautiful.  And you couldn’t help but place a quick kiss to her cheek with a whispered “ _ race you _ ” in her ear.

You won.  She was frozen for a good 10 or so seconds before your words registered and she threw herself forward, feet kicking and arms gliding through the water.

When she finally reached the beach at the shoreline where you stood, waiting patiently with a smug grin plastered on your face, your hip cocked out, and arms crossed, she practically charged you and threw you over her shoulder.  She ignored your pleas to let you go and instead carried you further into the forest that lined the falls.  You eventually gave up on any idea of escaping; she was a lot stronger than anticipated, even after swimming like a shark was chasing her.  You chalked it up to adrenaline.

Eventually, she did stop trudging through the brush like she was a woman on a mission, and gently put you down onto the soft dirt, your back up against a tree.  Her lips were on your neck in seconds and you barely felt the bark digging into your spine over the feeling of her swollen lips pressed into yours.

With her lips, came her wandering hands and firm grasps on your backside and the gentle kneading of your breasts and eventually her muscled thigh, pressed against your center.

You could see your dad through a break in the trees and he was none the wiser to his daughter being fucked against a tree, not even 20 yards to his right.  But you were very much aware that that could change any second and you managed to only let out a  single strangled cry against Carmilla’s collarbone when she wrapped her arms around your waist and easily slid two fingers into you.  You didn’t last very long.  She was good with her hands.

You blatantly ignored the very obvious bite marks on her shoulder when you eventually made your way back to where your dad was still wading through the water, on his back.  Carmilla only sent a wink your way before diving into the water again.  You followed shortly after, when your legs didn’t feel like Jell-O.

After having lunch on a blanket in the sand, your dad proposed heading back to camp.  Carmilla was laying with her head in your lap, her arm slung lazily over her eyes, most likely on the verge of passing out.  This had been the most physical activity you had ever seen her succumb to within one morning and you didn’t blame her.  You were inclined to just let her sleep, but your dad was the only one who knew the way back and you weren’t about to get lost in the middle of the woods with your  _ not _ -girlfriend.

It took you gently nudging her shoulder the entire time your dad was picking up the food for her to actually open her eyes.  She watched you with a sleepy smirk on her face for a minute before she actually got up, slipped her clothes back on, and was waiting patiently with her pack on her back at the mouth of the trail.  You weren’t far behind and eventually your dad took the lead and the three of you started the trek back.

Carmilla didn’t complain, per se, she just kind of sighed a lot and dragged her feet and made it obvious she was  _ not  _ having fun.  When you had had enough, you made it your mission to kiss her cheek every time she sighed, hoping it would make the hike more enjoyable.  Carmilla just started sighing more often.  Eventually, you gave up and when she started pouting, you had no choice but to tug her to the side of the trail and kiss her for real.

You managed to leave her breathing heavy and weak kneed, stumbling slightly when you let her go.

You stopped hearing her sigh after that.

When you finally arrived back at the campsite, Carmilla retreated to the tent, mumbling something about changing into dryer clothes and a nap.  You followed her, fully intending on napping with her.

_ Napping _ , apparently, was code for  _ make out for an unknown amount of time and then undress each other only to discover that Carmilla, somewhere along the way, walked through poison ivy _ .

You felt bad for her, you really did, but you couldn’t control yourself when she noticed the small red bumps on her calves and her eyes went comically wide and you burst out laughing.  You redressed her and yourself and notified your dad.  He made you take her to the showers, which, really, was probably only him trying to be helpful.  In reality, though, your resolve only lasted until her bare skin was under the stream of lukewarm water coming from the shower head.

What was supposed to be a quick rinse with soap and water, turned into a much longer, much less innocent, maneuver of limbs and messy, open mouthed kisses over wet skin.  By the time the two of you were clean and officially spent, the water was way passed cold and it was nearing dinner time.

You made it back, just in time for your dad to start dishing out potato salad and baked beans onto paper plates.

The next morning, your calves looked identical to Carmilla’s and you spent the day in your tent, a light breeze blowing through the open flap, with Carmilla on your chest and both of your calves covered in ointment, only moving from the tent to eat and go to the bathroom.

It was your favorite day by far.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camping, part deux.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This didn't go as planned, AT ALL.  
> I had another 11 questions written out with responses, but it's cool, this works too.

**_Carmilla_ **

It was the last night of the trip.  Laura barely sat still the entire afternoon.

The two of you spent the day in the sun, hanging around the campsite, drinking beer, and relaxing.  With Sherman trusting the two of you enough to go off on one of his excursions, you were left to your own devices.  He only reminded you three times to apply ointment to your poison ivy before he left.

It was a lazy day.

You threw a Frisbee back and forth.  Yes, you...throwing a Frisbee.  Physical activity.  Crazy.

You played a dozen rounds of War.  Laura claimed the cards were rigged when you won a majority of those rounds.  You reminded her that she was the one who provided the cards.

You taught her how to play poker, using gummy bears as chips.  She claimed to be confused for most of the game, asking questions here and there, but she ended up winning the pot on the last hand and you couldn’t even pretend that you weren’t impressed by her literal  _ poker face _ .

She shared her winnings with you anyway and gave you all of the green ones.  Most of them were green.

You even agreed to set up her hammock and take a nap with her, but really it didn’t take that much convincing.  You were ready for a nap the second you woke up.

You didn’t even bother picking up one of your books and opening its pages.  Honestly, it only briefly crossed your mind during lunch when you and Laura weren’t doing anything but eating your leftovers from the day before.

Sherman was away from camp all day and only came back in time for him to start making a late dinner of macaroni salad and veggie kabobs with mushrooms.  He went to bed after having a beer of his own and a brief goodnight thrown your way, saying it was going to be an early day tomorrow.

You and Laura (mostly Laura) decided it would be a good idea to stay up late as all hell so you could sleep the entire drive back to Sherman’s house in the morning.  You didn’t think you would have a problem with it in the first place, but staying up all night with Laura sounded promising.  You were going to pull an all-nighter and Laura was  _ way  _ too excited about it.

Apparently, pulling an all-nighter required you to actually do things.  And not the  _ things  _ you wanted to do.

Somewhere in her overly organized backpack, Laura managed to fit a tiny Tupperware container filled with tiny pieces of paper.  Each piece of paper, you found out, was marked with a question.  Laura called the game, “truth or drink”.  You said it didn’t sound very fun and she argued that the two of you didn’t really know the mundane, normal  _ friend  _ facts about each other.  You tried to argue back that you knew her  _ body  _ extremely well, but she covered your mouth with her hand and glared at you.  It was cute.

Instead of using beer for the drinking part of the game, Laura had other plans.  Where she managed to fit an entire liter of Crown, you had no idea.

This game might actually kill you.

Laura briefly explained the rules of the game, saying you had to both start by taking a shot, and then anytime you refused to answer a question, you would have to take another.  There were 20 questions.  Ten for each of you.  Hopefully luck was on your side.  Because Laura was going first.

You each took your first shot, with slight grimaces on your faces, and Laura mixed the folded pieces of paper up, telling you she had no idea what any of the questions were.  Lafontaine wrote them out.

Suddenly you were a bit more terrified, and a whole lot unsure about the  _ having luck on your side _ thing.

Laura’s first question wasn’t that bad.

“When was the most inappropriate time you farted?”  She snickered when she asked and you thought that maybe she was more drunk than she was letting on.  Not that you minded, of course.  You were about right there with her.

You could answer that, though.  And you did.

“Middle of an astronomy seminar my senior year of undergrad.”

“Oh, come on!  I need details!”  You rolled your eyes at that.  Mostly because you should've expected her not to be satisfied with barely a sentence.  So, you sighed just loud enough to get your point across that this was  _ not  _ what you had in mind when Laura suggested the two of you stay up all night and continued with the “details”.

“The prof was talking about some new star cluster that his colleague and him discovered and he was showing us slides of it on the projector.  I couldn’t hold it in, I was sweating bullets, I had to actually leave class.  Turned out that I had the stomach flu and the runs and ended up spending the rest of the weekend on the bathroom floor.”

“Well, that sounds... _ shitty _ …”  Laura snickered again.  She was definitely more drunk than she was letting on.

“Did you just…?”  You couldn’t help but smile a little as you shook your head at her.  She was smiling like an idiot.  The most adorable idiot.  She looked so proud of herself.

Your turn was next.

You stuck your hand in the container, while she was still grinning at you, swirled it around a bit, and pulled out a folded piece of paper.  You unfolded it.  And read it.

“What’s something you never told anyone?”  She watched you for a second, contemplating whether or not she was going to answer, or take another shot from the bottle in your lap.

She answered, after a deep breath.

“Apparently, when my mother died, she was pregnant with my brother.  She refused to go through chemo and lose him.  She ended up being too sick and weak to carry him to term and they took him out too early.  She died during the C-section, she lost a lot of blood.  He died later the same day, his heart gave out.  My dad only told me what really happened after I graduated college.  That’s one of the reasons I moved out West.  Things were rocky with me and my dad for a bit after that, but when I went home for thanksgiving, we kind of sorted our crap out.  None of the others know that.”

You were quiet.  You didn’t know what to say.  You weren’t expecting  _ that _ .  You weren’t expecting her to open up that much for a silly 20 questions game.

“You could've taken the shot…” you mumbled.  She just shook her head.

“We’re supposed to be getting to know each other better, right?”  She ended up taking the shot anyway.

You took one with her and told her about the rabbit you had as a kid and how your mother got mad at you for not cleaning it’s crate and let it go.  You found it dead in the backyard the next day and buried it in your mother’s flowerbed.  It's still there.  Your mother doesn’t know.

For Laura’s turn, she drew, “What’s the scariest dream you’ve ever had?”

She probably thought it was innocent enough, but you weren’t ready, nor as open as she was.  There was no way in hell or Hogwarts you were going to reveal  _ that _ .

So, you took the shot.  She raised an eyebrow at you in question.  You only shrugged and didn’t elaborate as the whiskey burnt it’s way down your throat and settled as a fire in your gut.

You were three shots and six beers deep.  You briefly wondered how much it would take for your tongue to become loose enough to talk about your mother that way.

You quickly drew another piece of paper.  A distraction from yourself.

“Who was your first crush?”

You didn’t even have time to think about the question before Laura blurted out, “Hermione.”  You snorted.  She threw her yellow pillow at you.  You caught it and held it to your chest, sinking into it.  She didn’t protest.

“Who’s the sexiest person here?”  You quirked an eyebrow at Laura’s blush and wide eyes.  You looked at her with the most put together, serious expression you could muster.

“Sherman,” you deadpanned.  She hit you with  _ your  _ pillow that time.  You couldn’t hide your smile.

“What’s your favorite color?”  You rolled your eyes.  “Really, creampuff?  Anyone who knows you could answer that one.  Are you sure you didn’t come up with these yourself?”

She told you to shut up.  “If you’re so sure, then what-?”

“Yellow.”

You know you’re right, if Laura’s silence told you anything.

It was her turn to draw.

“What’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told?”

You scoff.

“I told my mom I was straight for 18 years.”  She rolls her eyes, but there’s the hint of a smile on her lips.

You draw next.

“What’s your weirdest habit?”

Laura thinks for a minute.

“I don’t eat the ends of bananas.”

You just stared at her.  For someone who was normally so against wasting literally  _ anything _ , you thought it was a bit funny.

“Why not?” You asked, eyebrow raised.

“They weird me out, I don’t know.”  Laura shrugged, you rolled your eyes.

“You weird me out,” you mumbled as she drew another question.

“What’s your biggest secret?”  Laura sort of winced as she said it.

You didn’t want to answer.  She knew you didn’t want to answer.

“These are some hard-hitting questions, Detective Hollis.”

You really didn’t want to answer.

You did anyway.  After a shot.  You were supposed to be getting to know each other better, right?

You took another shot.

“I think I’m in love with you.”  You were surprised that came out of your mouth so easily.  And you were only  _ slightly  _ terrified.  But maybe that was the six shots and six beers in your system.

**_Laura_ **

You didn’t know what to say.

When someone told you they loved you, when someone told you they were  _ in love with you _ , you were supposed to say it back, right?  That was what happened in all the movies, right?  But, the movies never explained what you were supposed to do if you  _ didn’t know _ .

Carmilla was watching you and you didn’t know if you were in love with her.  You thought that maybe you were.  You had never been in love before, though.  So,  _ you didn’t know _ .  You didn’t know what love felt like.

You took a shot.

Why the hell not, right?  Liquid courage?

Carmilla just told you she was in love with you.  Well, she said she  _ thinks  _ she’s in love with you.  But, that’s basically the same thing, right?

But, how could she know that?

The two of you have sex.  A lot.  You do couple-y things.  A lot.  You think about her.  A lot.  You like her.  A lot.

You think she’s beautiful.

Like, really beautiful.

But you’re not  _ together _ .  You don’t think.  But you don’t want to be  _ together  _ with anyone else.  And apparently neither does she.  Right?  Confessing your love for someone means they don’t want to be with anyone else?

“Can you say something?”  Her voice was so small, you didn’t think she actually spoke, but her lips moved and you were staring at them so there was no way it was your mind playing tricks on you.

You poured another shot.

And poured it down your throat.

“I think I’m in love with you too.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what to say other than, trust me?

**_Carmilla_ **

You didn’t get an ounce of sleep that night and according to the tossing and turning at the other end of the tent from you, neither did Laura.

After her confession, she bolted from the tent and was gone for ten minutes (probably less...definitely less) before you went to follow her.  She was pacing back and forth in front of the rapidly dying fire, eyes wide, muttering to herself under her breath, exaggerated with flying arms as if she was berating herself like a child.

You were a little scared, more for your well-being than hers.  She looked absolutely livid.

You told her to come back into the tent, pleading with her that it was getting cold now that the sun was rising on the other side of the planet, but she ignored you and continued to mumble incoherent nothings to herself.

When she finally did acknowledge you it was with piercing eyes and a fire inside her you had never witnessed in her features before.  She abruptly stopped pacing, turned to you and practically hissed, “I’m fucking in love with you.”  She accompanied it with a shove to your chest, that caught you off guard almost causing you to trip backwards over one of the logs meant for the fire, and a finger jabbed into your shoulder before she practically growled out a slurred, “Fuck you!”  with another weak shove to the middle of your chest.  Then she was shouting, “This was never supposed to happen, you stupid, insufferable, sweet, insanely attractive jackass!”

You were confused, conflicted, your chest kinda hurt, and you didn’t really know what Laura was going on about, but she was getting loud.

“Wait,  _ what _ ?  Laura, calm down, you’re going to wake your dad up.  We can just pretend this never happened.  Just pretend I never said anything.”  Your heart hurt to say it, but if it would calm Laura down, you were willing to say anything at your expense.

“I can’t just  _ pretend  _ it never happened, Carmilla!  I’ve said it out loud, which makes it real and now it’s a  _ thing  _ and I- I  _ can’t _ .”  The light pouring from the open tent flap illuminated her face just enough for you to notice the tears streaming down her cheeks and the confliction in her eyes.

And then she was barreling past you and diving back into the tent like a blur through the night.  It took a minute for your body to react and actually  _ move _ , but you soon followed her, zipping the tent closed behind you, slowly, as if she was a young fawn and you were trying not to frighten her.

When you turned around, you found her hidden under a light blanket in the furthest most corner from where the sleeping bag the two of you had been sharing was lying.  Her back was facing you.  You took the hint, taking the liberty of packing away Laura’s game and the booze and throwing them gently back into Laura’s backpack.  You thought about starting the fire back up and just sitting outside until the sun rose again, but it was seriously getting cold out.

You bit the bullet and stayed inside the tent, throwing another, heavier, blanket at Laura before you climbed into the sleeping bag...and immediately regretted it.  It smelled like her.  It smelled like Laura and you immediately wanted to rip it away from your skin, but you were already shivering from the cold - probably, most likely...it definitely had nothing to do with Laura’s freak out - and didn’t want to risk hypothermia...or something.

You laid there with your eyes glued to the back of Laura’s head until the sun started to peek through the thin material of the tent and you heard Sherman start to stir.

The drive home was quiet.  Laura barely acknowledged you.  If Sherman noticed the palpable shift between the two of you, he didn’t say anything and happily listened to his Johnny Cash Cassettes over the stereo.  You were awake the entire ride.

You half expected Laura to stay at her dad’s until further notice, but she got on the flight back home with you, albeit accompanied by the silent treatment, but she was there nonetheless.  You took that as a good sign.  That at least she was there.  With you.  But then back at the house, it was the same thing; her pretending you didn’t exist, you forlornly watching her from a distance like a sad, lovesick puppy, while everyone else watched with pity in their eyes.

You even vaguely heard someone mumble something that sounded a lot like ‘ _ damn, what the hell happened on that camping trip _ ’.  You were asking yourself the same question.

She ignored you with fervor and determination.  It hurt.  But it also sparked something inside you and suddenly, you couldn’t take it anymore.  She wasn’t going to push you away that easily.

It took you about three days to muster up enough courage, but when you did, you didn’t hold back.  And it might’ve been the most idiotic thing you have ever done, but it also could have gone a lot worse.

You went to Laf.

You told them everything.

They told you, “don’t worry, I’ve got this!”

You trusted them.

You didn’t expect what happened next.

**_Laura_ **

You never thought in a million years that Lafontaine, after all the shit you’ve been through together, would be the person to use  _ cookies - COOKIES -  _ as an abduction tactic.  Okay, technically they didn’t  _ abduct  _ you, that might be a stretch, but still, telling you that Perry made your favorite cookies and that she left them in the attic for you and then closing the door and locking it the second you walked through the door, was not cool.  And the worst part?  Carmilla was there.  Apparently Laf locked her up there not 15 minutes prior.

You could’ve killed them.  Theoretically.  In your head.  They were still your best friend and you weren’t a murderer.  But you were pissed.  There weren’t even any cookies, for Merlin’s sake.

You spent the majority of an hour yelling through the door at Laf who you were fairly certain was just sitting on the other side of it with a smug-as-all-heck smirk on their face.

Carmilla just watched you until she couldn’t take it anymore and nearly begged you to stop because you were giving her a headache and she was  _ not  _ in the mood.

When you finally did shut up for five seconds, Lafontaine told you that you weren’t allowed out until the two of you “made up” because apparently the two of you were “disgustingly in love and needed to get back together”.  That set you off again and you started picturing the door as Lafontaine’s face.

Then, out of nowhere, because you could’ve sworn she was on the other side of the room from you, Carmilla was suddenly behind you, a hand over your mouth and her free arm wrapped around you, holding you so you weren’t able to bang on the door anymore.  And then there was shoving and more yelling and childish name calling that you probably meant to be more insulting than it actually was.

“Smug.”

“ _ Hypocritical _ .”

“Superior.”

“ _ Delusional _ .”

“Condescending.”

“ _ Tightly-wound _ .”

“Narcissistic.”

“ _ Prissy _ .”

“Uncaring.”

“ _ Nerdy _ .”

“Nihilistic little _ - _ ”

“- _ little journalist.  You wish you were _ .”

And then you were in each others faces.  And no more words were exchanged.  And your lips were on hers, or maybe it was her lips on yours, first.  And it was quiet for several minutes, if Lafontaine’s worried, distant shouts of ‘ _ have you killed each other yet? _ ’ were any indication.  But you barely heard them.  You were busy.

And then you were backing Carmilla up into the wall next to the door and somehow your hand made it down the front of her pants, past her underwear, and she was using her hands to guide your hips into a steady pace on her muscled thigh between your legs.

Then she started talking, just as your fingers were starting to work in a steady pace over her clit.  Usually talking at really inopportune times was your thing.

“Laura, we should really-”  You cut her off with a rough kiss.

“Carmilla, I swear-”

“Lau-”  That time you cut her off with your hand over her mouth and two fingers pushed inside her.  The only thing that came out of her mouth after that was a gasp.

“Shut.  Up.”  You practically growled the words into her mouth, using your anger to fuel your libido, removing Carmilla’s hands from your waist and pinning them above her head with the hand that wasn’t busy pumping fingers roughly into her.

It wasn’t long before her muscles were pulsing around your fingers while your mouth worked bruises into her shoulder and a half strangled attempt at your name was falling from her mouth as her head fell back against the wall with a dull thump.  You were tempted to just let her fall to the ground, but you allowed yourself to hold her up until she pulled your hand from her pants and went to switch your positions.

She got you backed up into the wall and was greedily sucking on your neck when the door to the attic flung open and a half disgruntled, half concerned Lafontaine came barging in, looking ready to break up a fight that didn’t happen (yet).

That was all it took to snap you out of whatever sex-crazed trance you were in.  And then you were pushing Carmilla off of you and she was grabbing you by the wrist and you were yelling at her not to follow you.

You didn’t stay long enough to catch the look of hurt on her face.

It would be better that way, in the long run.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :)

**_Carmilla_ **

You actually thought you escaped her.  You thought you were done with her manipulative bullshit.  You thought you were free.

You thought.  And that was the problem.

As if she’d let you go that easily.

Somewhere, somehow, word got back to your mother that you were in California.

When Laf found you on the roof (because you hadn’t stepped foot in the attic since _that_ day), and they told you there was an extremely terrifying woman in respectable business wear and heels, with freshly manicured nails and a stare that could make a pride of lions cower, asking for you at the front door, your stomach sank, your breathing picked up, and you’re pretty sure your heart stopped.

You knew instantly it was your mother they were referring to.

With more effort than necessary, you managed to make it back through the window in your bedroom.  Before descending the stairs, however, you made sure to tell Laf that if, for any reason, you didn’t make it back before morning, they were to call the police.

They laughed.

You were serious.

Turns out, your mother wanted to go out for lunch.  To talk.

That was normal for her.  She enjoyed belittling her children in public so you couldn’t retaliate without making a scene.

What you didn’t expect was Ell, waiting in the back of the black SUV, when your mother’s driver opened the door for the two of you.

And, as if it was even possible, your stomach sank further.

Dealing with your mother was one thing.  Your ex-fiancee?  She was a whole other thing entirely.

Your steps faltered the second your eyes met Ell’s cold blue orbs.  You only managed to force yourself to climb into the seat next to her after your mother placed her hand on the small of your back and forcefully pushed you forward.

As if your week wasn’t already bad, with Laura avoiding you like the plague, it had just gotten a whole lot worse.

Lunch, surprisingly, went by without incident.  Albeit, you nearly sweated through your flannel and you jumped every time your mother acknowledged you or that one time Ell mentioned the fact that you weren’t wearing her engagement ring and you muttered something about it probably being washed down the sewer drain.  She didn’t hear you.

You survived lunch.  There was no yelling or berating, or judgement. And that only meant one of two things:

1\.  Your mother was beyond livid and her punishment would be too severe to play out in public,

Or

2\.  She really didn’t give two shits anymore and just wanted to know that you were alive.  Like an _actual_ , loving mother.

Somehow, you really doubted it was option number two, but a girl could hope.

Your hope violently flew out the window, when back in the car, your mother asked her driver to raise the partition separating him from the three of you in the back seat.  Suddenly, it felt like it was you against two, with the odds highly in their favor.

Your body started trembling before your mother even began to raise her fist.  But once she did, your entire being braced itself for the inevitable as her open palm connected with your cheek, the only sound in the car the smack of flesh against flesh and your surprised gasp.

Then came the yelling.  The disappointment.  The abhor.

You think the driver must have gone around the block a couple times because the ride to the restaurant felt much, _much_ shorter.

Ell didn’t say a word the entire time.  She just sat there, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her eyes watching the buildings and cars moving past outside her window, her face stoic.  You weren’t really even sure why she was even there other than to make you feel uncomfortable.

It worked.

As the driver pulled up to the Perry’s hostel, your mother ordered you to pack your things at once.  She knew you didn’t have a lot.  She knew it wouldn’t take you long.  But there was no way in hell you were getting back in that car once your feet touched the sidewalk, after your mother practically threw you out.

You nearly ran up the front walkway, barely acknowledging the wisp of a honey colored pony tail out of the corner of your eye, and busted through the front door.  You passed Laf on your way up the stairs and managed to mutter out something along the lines of, “if she doesn’t leave, call the cops.”

They asked something about your eye.  Your only response was the slam of your door in their face.

Mattie called you two hours later.  Six times.  You ignored every ring.

Will called you too, but you were already on the roof with a journal on your lap and a pen in your hand at that point and didn’t see the notification for his missed call until the following morning.

**_Laura_ **

You had a lot of time to think after your last encounter with Carmilla, especially considering she hadn’t once tried to contact you about your little (overdramatic) outburst(s).  Which inevitably meant the theoretical ball was on your side of the theoretical court.  The thing was, it was a rather large court and Carmilla happened to be on the far end of it.  Directly under the net.  With obstacle after impossible/potentially deadly obstacle separating you.

But it physically pained you to see her _that_ upset.  And because of you.

That night you could hardly sleep.  Your mind kept replaying the look of hurt and betrayal in Carmilla’s eyes when you walked away from her.  Again.  After fucking her…  Again

It was nearly three o’clock the next morning, when you finally got enough courage to attempt an apology and an explanation.  Because she deserved it.  You just didn’t think she deserved you.  She deserved someone who could love her wholeheartedly and wasn’t absolutely terrified to.

Carmilla wasn’t in her bed when you walked through your shared bathroom and into her bedroom.  She wasn’t in the attic on the window seat with a book, or in the kitchen scooping deep into a pint of ice cream, or in the mini library upstairs.  The house was quiet, the only sound the pad of your feet on the hardwood floors.

She wasn’t in the front yard, or the back in one of the hammocks either, but as you were seconds away from giving up your search and attempting sleep you knew wouldn’t come, you caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of your eye.

Sitting with her back to you, eyes focused on the stars, tapping the tip of a pen to a familiar journal, was Carmilla.  On the roof.  One leg dangling over the edge.

You didn’t want to scare her, but something in you couldn’t stop picturing her falling to her death, so you called out to her.  She jumped, but quickly hid it with a snarky, “oh, you’re talking to me now?”  You just rolled your eyes and told her you were coming up.

She didn’t protest.  You took that as a good sign.

You were reaquainted with your fear of heights the second you got to the window and stuck one of your legs out.  You muttered a remark about how the hell Carmilla even got up there and she must have heard you because seconds later she was climbing down and grumbling the entire time she helped you with the placing of your feet.

As soon as you were safely situated next to her (sat a foot away, at least) she immediately went back to doing whatever it was she was doing before you interrupted her, and ignored you.  You cleared your throat, trying to get her attention again, but the pen in her hand kept moving, even as she raised her eyebrow.  You rolled your eyes.

“What are you even doing up here?  This is like, incredibly unsafe, Carmilla.”

She barely acknowledged you as she mumbled, “J’aime le nuit, j’ai les idées plus claires dans le noir.”

You huffed out a laugh.  “Funny, because it seems to me like you’re afraid of it, if last week was any indication.”

You watched her head snap up so fast you were surprised she didn’t get whiplash from the action alone.  “Wait, you understand French?”

You smirked.  “I’d hope so, I studied it for eight years.”

You figured she wasn’t expecting you to know what she was saying.  And maybe that was the only way she was willing to talk to you; in languages you couldn’t understand.  You didn’t really blame her.

The two of you sat in silence for what felt like an eternity.

When you couldn’t handle the eerily deafening silence, in complete Laura Hollis fashion, you spit out everything you wanted to say in one breath and hoped she understood enough to begin to forgive you.

“I miss you and I don’t know what the hell I was thinking but I love you I’m so _incredibly_ in love with you and I haven’t stopped thinking about that fact since you said it that night and it’s driving me insane not being able to just _talk_ to you and _touch_ you like before and I am so so so so sorry Carmilla I was scared and angry at myself and you deserve so much better than that and someone who isn’t afraid to love you you deserve the world Carmilla but the word ‘love’ triggers something in my head and I get all clammy and I feel nauseous and my hands start shaking and I’m scared that if you stay I’m going to fuck everything up and I can’t do that to you It hurts to see you in pain and I’m sorry I’m such an idiot and I’m sorry I’m so selfish and-”

“Okay, Laura, you need to breathe before you fucking pass out.”

“-oh my god I probably sound insane but I can’t even remember the last time I said ‘I love you’ I don’t even say it to my dad not since my mom died and I don’t want you to die because I love you-”

“Laura, nobody is dying.  I need you to-”

“-and oh god please don’t die I’m so sorry please-” “ _Jesus christ…_ ”

And then you weren’t talking anymore and your nose was filled with the addictive, familiar scent of Carmilla’s shampoo and your laundry detergent and something resembling a bonfire and you’re not really sure how she manages that, but the thought was only flitting as her lips pressed firmly into yours and her hands cupped your jaw as her thumbs brushed away the tears that you had no idea were even there.

And then she was telling you to breathe and you found yourself obeying without much thought.

Her voice was gentle and sincere and if you weren’t mistaken, full of an undeniable love.  And maybe it was the way she was looking at you, eyes shining with unshed tears in the moonlight, or the gentle way she was leaning slightly into you even though she was the one holding you up, but you felt it deep in your chest when she told you she loved you and that you didn’t need to say it back for her to know.  Because she knows.  And it’s okay.

It’s okay for you to love her.

She wasn’t going anywhere.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...endearingly annoying, if not a bit aggressive..." (same)

 

**_Carmilla_ **

Your mother didn’t come back after the lunch with her and Ell and Laf didn’t have to call the police, as she ended up leaving shortly after you entered the house and showed no signs of coming back out.  You couldn’t have been happier, but you also didn’t risk being too excited though, you knew she wouldn’t let up that easily.

Your fears proved to be certain when Mattie showed up at the Hostel with an apologetic smile and the excuse of mother sending her.  She said she’d make something up to tell mother, something like you had already fled by the time she got there, were long gone, in another state probably, possibly another country altogether.  She said she wanted to help you, that she was working her way out of mother’s grasp as well.  She had papers for an apartment lease not too far from where you were currently and told you it would be paid for out of an account mother didn’t know about.  She also mentioned you quitting your job and going for an interview with one of her good friends in the area that had no ties to mother.  Apparently, it was for a job translating old documents from French into English and it honestly sounded appealing, but you liked your job at the bookstore.  She suggested doing it on the side and freelance.

You told her you’d think about it, but really, your mind went straight to Laura.

You couldn’t imagine living a 40 minute walk away from her.  Especially now.

Ever since things between you and Laura were cleared up, Laura’s been endearingly annoying, if not a bit aggressive (but lovingly aggressive?).

Endearing, because you literally couldn’t get enough.  You found it cute, how much she seemed to want to be in your presence, as if the time you spent apart was entirely too much for her to handle.  You didn’t mind, because you felt the same way.

The two of you decided not to put a label on anything yet to see where the whole situation goes, but you’ve basically been in a honeymoon period for the past three weeks.  She hasn’t left your side unless she’s working, you’re working, or either of you are using the bathroom.  And even then it’s a tossup as to whether or not she follows you.  And you don’t mind the newfound closeness.  You honestly didn’t even realize she was doing it until Laf commented about the two of you being tethered together by an invisible cord.

Laura got offended, of course, scoffed, and tried to prove it wasn’t true by going to make hot chocolate for herself in the kitchen.  You got up less than a minute later to help her and only noticed you had when you were about to take a sip from her mug and her arms were wrapped around your stomach, under your sweatshirt, her hands splayed out across your lower back.  She seemed to notice it then too and muttered a single  _ ‘fuck’  _ before removing herself from you and taking her mug from your hands and heading back to the living room with a pout where Laf was just sitting and watching the two of you with an obnoxious smirk on their face.

After that, Laura made a conscious effort to touch you only a “respectable” amount of times throughout the day.  She lasted maybe two hours before she unceremoniously plopped herself in your lap with a defeated look and a huff.  You were trying to read on the couch while Laf was watching some science documentary on Netflix and when Laf went to further confirm their previous statement, Laura cut them off with an outburst of, “I just want to fucking hold her hand!”

You managed to suppress your laughter by burying your face in Laura’s neck.  Laf wasn’t so lucky.  At least they tried to show their surrender by raising their hands, palms out, and stating that they were glad the two of you finally got your shit together.

You couldn’t disagree.

Then they opened their mouth again,

“I should also probably mention that you were literally laying with your head under Carmilla’s shirt last night when we watched _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_.  And you can’t even use the excuse that you were scared because that is the farthest thing from a horror movie that I have ever seen.  And the day before that you were-”

You could only laugh at the complete look of horror on Laura’s face as she tried to stammer out a rebuttal before Laf commented anymore.  Laf was right though.  Laura was doing everything in her power to be as close to you as physically possible.  Even if that meant surpassing your clothing so she could feel your skin against hers (you weren’t complaining, if only because she was basically a portable human heater).

When Laura couldn’t come up with a response, you hooked your arm around her neck brought her to your chest, hugging her head and smothering her affectionately.

“You’re just jealous.”

Laf only rolled their eyes and refocused their attention back to the television.

“Whatever.  You two are fucking weird.”

That night, Laura slept in her own bed.

You tossed and turned for an hour before losing the battle and trudging through your shared bathroom and into her room.  She was awake.

You only mumbled, “ _ This was a fucking stupid idea _ ” before you climbed into bed with her.  She made it a point to acknowledge the fact that she lasted longer than you before your head found her chest and her hand tangled itself into your hair.  You could feel her smile as she pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

You fell asleep the second you closed your eyes, to the sound of her heartbeat in your ears.

The following morning, she brought you breakfast in bed when you woke up late and even managed to call the bookstore.  You didn’t bother asking what she told your boss, you were thankful you didn’t have to rush to get ready.

You made sure to thank her - after you finished your breakfast, of course - with a few rounds in between her legs and didn’t so much as flinch when someone happened to bang on the door more than once when Laura got a little too loud.  You only laughed and made sure she screamed your name even louder the next time.

When you were satisfied that she couldn’t move, and just as she was on the verge of sleep, you fiddled with the bedspread and mentioned the apartment Mattie proposed.  You had less than 48 hours to sign the papers and get them back to her if you truly wanted it.  Laura’s opinion was your deciding factor.  And before you could stop yourself, you asked her if maybe she would want to come with you.

You wanted to backtrack the conversation entirely the second the words were out of your mouth, but you forced yourself to hold firm and watched a series of emotions flit across Laura’s face as her mouth gaped open and closed more than a few times.

When she didn’t answer right away, you tried to reason that there were two bedrooms (even knowing full well that the two of you would only be using one) and that she wouldn’t have to worry about rent or a long commute to work on her bike because there was a streetcar right near the building.

She didn’t say anything for a long while and you had about six heart attacks, you’re sure, before she finally said a simple,  _ ‘okay _ .’

And then she started rambling about conditions and paying her half of the rent anyway and paying for half the groceries and actually putting her stuff in the spare bedroom even if she never used it, but you barely heard her because she agreed to move in with you.  As... _ whatever you two were _ ...but she agreed nonetheless.

You put both of your names on the lease and signed the dotted lines and you faxed the documents over to Mattie that evening (because of course Perry had a fax machine in her office) and then Laura called her dad and said her thanks to you until the early hours of the morning after.

**_Laura_ **

So, you’re moving in with Carmilla.

Which shouldn’t be a big deal, because you already live together and share a bathroom and Carmilla hasn’t slept in her own bed in basically a month.  But still.

You’re moving in with Carmilla.

When you called your dad, you were terrified he was going to shut the whole thing down immediately (and only slightly - tremendously - terrified that you were actually doing this, because calling him made it  _ official _ ), but as it turned out, he was ecstatic about the news (as much as a parent could be when his only daughter was moving in with her not-girlfriend/best friend/love of her life/fuck buddy) and he managed to calm you down.  You never ended up telling him about what happened between you and Carmilla that night in the tent (or the entire trip for that matter) and blamed the awkward drive home on the two of you being exhausted (which you were, so it wasn’t a complete lie, but not because of the reason he thought).  You didn’t tell him Mattie was willing to pay for the apartment either, as long as it meant Carmilla was safe from her mother, she said she was happy to even if you  _ weren’t  _ so happy about that small detail.  You also didn’t tell him how you’d have to take the streetcar to work, because you’re sure he’d hire a driver just so you didn’t have to step foot on public transportation.  You could hear his rebuttal almost perfectly in your head (which slightly concerned you), “Laura, the death tollon public transportation has risen something like 7% this year alone!”  You chose not to acknowledge the fact that it was almost double that for cyclists in LA traffic.  Which only led to you not telling him where the apartment was and not bothering to show him the pictures Carmilla sent you because then he’d definitely know it cost more than the two of you could afford.

You didn’t really want to know how Mattie could even afford it.  Carmilla said something about a secret bank account, but where was  _ that _ money coming from, if their mother didn’t know about it??  Didn’t Mattie work for their mother???

Either way, you and Carmilla were moving in together.  Into your own apartment.  That the two of you shared.  Together.

You’ll admit, it seems a bit soon to be thinking about moving in with each other, but it wouldn’t be all that different.  Just maybe, less interruptions from literally everyone in the house.  And you heard in good faith that the previous owner was a musician and had the whole place soundproofed, ceiling to floor in every room, which only further persuaded your decision (and made you slightly question the  _ actual _ reason for soundproofing the  _ entire _ apartment…like, you could only think of  _ one  _ reason a bathroom needed to be soundproofed and it wasn’t because you might want to play your electric guitar while taking a shit, but whatever).

You were taking the next step with Carmilla.

And for once in your life you felt like it was actually something that you were meant to do (after a slight panic attack, of course).

Like you were supposed to do this with  _ Carmilla _ .  That you met for a  _ reason _ , the two of you found each other and you fell in  **love** with each other for a  _ reason _ .

Even if you didn’t know for sure what that reason was yet.  Even if it was as simple a reason as you overcoming whatever part of your brain seized and malfunctioned every time you heard the word “love”.  Even if it only meant you finding your voice enough to finally tell her.

You’d take it.

Because now she knows.

Unsurprisingly, the two of you got the apartment right away.  Mattie pulled some strings and set things in motion, using the excuse of getting Carmilla out of that ‘surprisingly clean, but dreadfully ancient deathtrap of a mansion, filled with too many gingers and not enough wine’.  Secretly though, you knew Mattie enjoyed their company and she was only getting Carmilla out of there because she was scared their mother might come back and forcefully take Carmilla with her back to Hell, or  _ wherever  _ she came from (you were pretty sure it was Hell, though).

You weren’t going to point out the fear and concern you saw in Mattie’s eyes when she handed over the keys.

Mattie surprisingly helped the two of you move what little possessions the two of you had into the apartment that weekend, claiming she had nothing better to do, but the amount of time she spent on her phone, told you otherwise.  You were thankful nonetheless.  She even forced Will and Kirsch to help, even if the most they did was provide a six pack of beer as an “apartment-warming gift” (which they ended up drinking) and carrying a queen sized mattress up several flights of stairs.  You enjoyed their company though, if nothing else, and after Mattie left, the four of you had an uneventful evening of sitting in the middle of your empty living room floor, surrounded by unopened ikea boxes and Carmilla’s books, while you all played Never Have I Ever and shared a few laughs.

Kirsch and Will left late in the afternoon on Sunday, after attempting, and failing, to put together a slew of IKEA furniture, leaving it in the hands of you and Carmilla.  You didn’t mind though, even after it all went to shit.

You figured out a lot of things about Carmilla that evening.  The most prominent being, she could not for the life of her use power tools (or follow instructions, or aim a hammer, or swallow her pride long enough to admit any of this).  You loved her, you did, but she proved to be more useless than the instructions for the end table she was trying to put together.

One that barely required instructions at all, for that matter.

The desk and dresser were another thing altogether, but the  _ end table _ ?  You managed to put yours together in less than an hour,  _ without  _ the instructions.  It took Carmilla two hours to discover she was trying to read the instructions upside down.  When you relayed this information to her, she instantly looked like she was ready to burst into tears.

You called it a night after that and took her to bed on your shared mattress in the middle of your bedroom floor and told her she was good at other stereotypical lesbian things, like scaring children and wearing flannel incredibly well.

That elicited a belly laugh from her and after hearing how genuine it sounded and how happy she was, you couldn’t fathom why you ever pushed her away.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's chocolate and talks of Paris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School got crazy and then I got sick so I haven't updated anything in a bit, but here's this thing and next time they'll be in Paris so, hopefully that makes up for it?

**_Carmilla_ **

Your first order of business, as a new apartment owner, was to christen every surface of said apartment with Laura’s bare skin.

...Or it would have been, had Mattie not stopped by with the terms of her agreement to pay for the apartment - stating, in more or less words, that she was not in charge of property damage and maintenance expenses and that “whatever you two children break during your sexcapades is none of my responsibility”, which left Laura a sputtering, red mess, while you simply rolled your eyes at your sisters antics.

When she left, you thought you were in the clear, but you barely got the door shut before it was being shoved open again by a pale hand, leading up to a pale face and a head of almost blindingly vibrant, curly red hair.

You could only groan and get out of her way as she pushed past you with an oversized tupperware tray of brownies and a cheery, “Hello, Carmilla!”

She didn’t stay long, simply dropping off the brownies with a promise to check back in later via FaceTime with Lafontaine and the rest of the house, after Laura told her you two were up late trying to put the furniture together.

It was little white lie, but it worked wonders and soon enough you were finally alone with your friend that you were in love with and who was in love with you but with whom you agreed to not jump into things with because said friend needed some time and space even though you tried that and it worked horribly (passive aggressive undertones intended).

And maybe you should’ve taken the chance when you had it, but Laura was already at the island, a brownie shoved halfway into her mouth and another in her hand, with a smudge of chocolate on her lower lip, while she tried to secure the lid back on the tray.  And maybe you weren’t as thirteen-year-old-boy sex crazy as you thought you were because all thoughts of having her naked under you flew out the window with the afternoon breeze the second her eyes met yours and she gave you that sheepish smile, full of mushed brownie.  You could only laugh as you pulled her to you and stole a bite of the brownie still between her fingertips.  She pretended to pout, but you kissed it away along with the chocolate left by her haphazardly shoving the brownie into her mouth, and maybe you shouldn’t have because of the whole “space” thing, but you couldn’t help it and she kissed you back and didn’t protest when you sucked her lower lip into your mouth and blamed the chocolate.

You dragged her to the middle of the living room floor where your coffee table’s pieces were scattered around the couch and let her pick a movie while you went and found a blanket large enough to engulf the both of you in it’s warmth.  When you came back, the Carol title screen was on her laptop and there was a plate of brownies on the floor.

You watched the movie with eyes glossed over, very much aware of every part of her that was touching you - her head on your shoulder, her arms wrapped around and through yours, her upper thigh flush against yours, her toes wiggling in anticipation and occasionally brushing against yours - while she intently stared at the screen, fully invested until the credits rolled and a question burst it’s way past your lips.

“If you could live anywhere in the world, and money wasn’t an issue, where would you live?”

She didn’t even think about it before she answered, “Easy, Paris.”  Which was ironic, considering you would have picked the same answer (it was your favorite place to vacation, before Elle anyway - maybe it could be your favorite again).  Apparently, she had never been, but the thought of living in a “cute” little apartment in the city, with a view of the Eiffel Tower from the small balcony, surrounded by colorful and lively flowers as she drank her morning hot chocolate and emerged herself in a creampuff larger than her head, was a dream of hers.  Little did she know, you had had that once (minus the creampuff).  You could have had it now, if you had stayed with Elle.  But, you didn’t bother telling her that.

Instead, you suggested taking a trip in the upcoming months because what better way to mend a relationship than to hop on a plane to France and spend the better part of a week roaming the streets of Paris with the woman you love?

She didn’t object.  Maybe you caught her on a good day.  She didn’t even mention the whole “space” thing.

**_Laura_ **

When Carmilla mentioned a trip to Paris, you barely hesitated.

A trip to Paris?  With Carmilla Karnstein??  Just the two of you???

Who the hell would say no to that?!

You probably should have, actually, at least while you were still figuring your shit out, but the two of you lived together - in an actual apartment - now and what the hell, right?  A week in Paris would be good for you.  Good for your relationship.  Because maybe all you needed was a bit of alone time.  With Carmilla.  Or maybe not with Carmilla…

Clearly your head was a bit confused, but your heart was definitely all in and knew what (who) it wanted.

So, you agreed.

And then you were buying plane tickets and looking at hotels with great views and arguing over who would pay for what and where to go while you were there because there was a chocolate and candy factory that was calling your name, but there were also so many other touristy things and so many gardens to walk through and museums and you think Carmilla would really like that.

In the end, you planned to do as much as you could in ten days.

You both agreed to have four days each to pick what you wanted, leaving two days to “rest” in the hotel room with room service and clean sheets and bath robes (or a complete lack of bath robes and every other article of clothing).

And by the time Perry cashed in her promise to FaceTime you with the rest of the house, your trip was set in stone for exactly three weeks from now.  You even managed to get permission from your boss to treat it as a _work thing_ so you didn’t have to take time off and even though you had to at least write _one_ article and keep her updated via email, you couldn’t complain.

Carmilla fell asleep with her head in your lap while you were still talking to Perry.  It was just before dinner so you ordered take out the second she hung up and let Carmilla sleep, only waking her up when the buzzer went off 30 some minutes later and you were forced to get up from the floor and pay the man for your food.

You ate thai on the floor of your shared living room with lukewarm beer and your laptop playing some version of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, while you practically hid behind your take out container and Carmilla made fun of the actors for “not screaming convincingly enough” or “tripping over nothing”.

You knew she was making a joke out of it for your benefit, but you liked her commentary, you liked hearing her voice, so you didn’t say anything.

She fell back asleep, this time after moving to the couch and after a few more beers and another movie.  You managed to put together the coffee table and television stand before she started groaning and practically dragged you, while still half asleep, your wrist held gently in one hand, her blanket in the other, to the mattress you two shared and put you to bed, still in your clothes from the day.  You didn’t have the heart to protest or to tell her you needed to shower and just wrapped yourself around her frame, molding seamlessly with her flesh as she slept and you held on.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally the end of the will they won’t they bs. You’ll have to read the chapter to find out if they will or if they won’t, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol hope no one's lactose intolerant...

**_Carmilla_ **

It had been years since you visited Paris.  In fact the last time you were here, Elle proposed, but you tried not to think about that, considering it was all a ploy her and your mother conjured up.  But, it was whatever.  This trip was different.  Just two friends, exploring, no intention of making things more.  Simple.

Until it wasn’t.

Because nothing about Laura Eileen Hollis was  _ simple _ .

But maybe that was what you loved about her.  And if loving her was the simplest thing about your relationship, you’d call that a win.

You were supposed to be taking things slow.  You were supposed to be wading into whatever you two had going on like you were doggy paddling through molasses in the midst of a long Canadian winter.

You learned pretty quickly that things never went as planned.

It  _ started  _ slow.  And promptly lasted until the both of you stepped off the plane and Laura grabbed you by the hand and practically dragged you through the airport to the luggage claim and then out the doors and into a taxi.

The look on her face as she took in everything around her, her nose pushed up against the window like an infatuated child, made your heart flutter like a fucking hummingbird in flight.  When Laura saw  _ La tour Eiffel _ for the first time, her eyes lit up and she turned to you, mouth hanging open in pure awe.  She pointed out the window, telling you to look, but you could only watch her, the source of the matching wonderment in your eyes completely different from her own.  You didn’t have the heart to tell her your memories of the Eiffel Tower weren’t very fond ones.  Maybe at the time, they were, but now that you know what Elle and your mother did...the wounds felt like they were reopening just a little.  At least Laura was there to keep them closed.

And with that thought, you realized you were well and truly fucked on the whole relationship=molasses thing.

Finally in the hotel room, Laura had her entire suitcase unpacked and it’s contents put away into the dresser drawers before you even had your clothes for the rest of the day picked out.  She was nearly vibrating with excitement and looking at the view of the Eiffel Tower from the hotel room balcony one minute and the next, she was wrapping her arms around your neck and pulling you in for the longest, warmest Hollis hug you’d ever had the pleasure of receiving.  It was almost instinct to wrap your arms round her waist and bury your face in her shoulder while she thanked you with a million hushed whispers in your ear.

Jet lag caught up to her quickly after that, or maybe it was the adrenaline finally dropping from being in a new country and a new city for the first time, but she was out like a light and sprawled out across the entire bed by the time you finished putting your clothes away.

When you crawled into bed next to her, your intention was to wake her up with a light kiss to her forehead and a tap to her shoulder with the preposition of a true French espresso, but she only opened her eyes enough to find the collar of your shirt and drag you on top of her, until you fit comfortably together on top of the fresh linen tucked into the mattress.

When she held you against her and promptly fell back asleep, you didn’t bother trying to wake her up again, and instead allowed yourself to be lulled into unconsciousness by the beat of her heart and the steady rise-and-fall of her chest.

_**Laura** _

When you woke up again, Carmilla’s nose was nestled into the crook of your neck, tickling your skin with every exhale.  You could’ve laid there for hours more, but the sun was still up and you were in  _ Paris  _ with  _ Carmilla _ .  You didn’t want to waste your first day away by co napping with your favorite partner... _ co nap _ partner.

You woke her up gently, with slow circles to her lower back.  She grumbled and groaned and complained about how it was technically  _ your  _ idea to take a nap, but you promised coffee and a late lunch and she dragged herself out of bed with a yawn to change.

Outside, you grabbed her hand and blamed it on not wanting to lose her in the sea of people walking down the sidewalk in front of your hotel.  She guided you to a small café down the cobblestone street and spoke in perfect French to the woman behind the counter, ordering you something with a lot of sugar in it to mask the amount of espresso, even though you were more than capable of doing it yourself.  She paid and left a generous tip as she took the drinks, handing you yours, and grabbing your hand again.

You ordered and paid for lunch, stopping at a quaint family-owned charcuterie a little further down the way and picked up some fresh fruit from a vendor on the street.  The two of you ate lunch in the grass of the  _ Champ de Mars  _ and she told you the gruesome history behind the park and you listened and hung onto every word.  Though not a typical topic for picnic conversation, it was Carmilla who was telling it and you would have listened to her talk about massacres all day if it meant you got to hear her voice.

You explored the city for a bit after that.  Carmilla stopped and hackled a street vendor with a cart full of every flower imaginable, for a single overpriced sunflower and smiled when she handed it to you.  If it was anyone else, you would have found it entirely too cheesy.  But it was Carmilla and she never ceased to keep things interesting.

You came across a tiny bookshop and you immediately dragged Carmilla through the door by your intertwined hands because you thought she’d be about as at home as she could be in what felt like another planet to you.  You let her lead you through the stacks of books while she perused the pages of several novels, all in French, even keeping a couple in the crook of her arm to purchase.

You were getting close to the end of the line of aisles when she suddenly tugged on your hand and pulled you behind a cart of books to be put away.  The area was secluded and you were positive the owner of the shop wouldn’t be able to see you.  She set the books in her hand down on a stool near the bookshelf behind you and whispered your name like if she said it any louder, her voice would shatter whatever realm of possibility formed in the two syllables alone.  She was looking at you like she wanted to kiss you or throw up or both.  Her hands were shaking when she reached up to tucked your hair behind your ear and then she started rambling and you figured she probably spent  _ way  _ too much time around you.

“...I can’t--I can’t do this, this  _ ‘slow’  _ thing with you.  I  _ tried _ , I really did, but it’s  _ crazy _ ...when it comes to you, I’m the epitome of putty.  You simply look at me and I would melt to your every whim - do whatever it took to keep that smile radiating across your face.  And, I still can’t figure out how you got me like this, but I haven’t been able to shake this feeling.  This feeling like, like you’re  _ embedded  _ into my bones.  And, I know that sounds stupid, or cheesy as all hell, but  _ God _ , do I hope you stay.”

Inside you were a fucking mess.  Outside you were probably still a mess, but you couldn’t care less.  You barely managed to get out a weak, “you fucking sap” before you choked on the lump in your throat.

“Only for you, sweetheart.  Only for you,” came Carmilla’s reply and honestly, you didn’t see any other choice but to kiss her in between the shelves of a Paris bookstore while she gently caressed your cheek.

You ended up buying the books she had picked out as a thank you for the flower earlier, even if she refused, saying that the blush on your neck was enough.

You got gelato for dinner and ate it under a patio umbrella, where you told her you didn’t plan on leaving.  That you were as embedded in her bones as she was yours.  And she looked at you with such astonished bewilderment, like you put the constellations in the sky.

But you were no Greek goddess.

Just one Laura Eileen Hollis who finally realized that things would be okay and the world wasn't going to end because you loved a girl who loved you back.

The night ended with the two of you kissing like the French do against a brick building a block over from your hotel.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, we get to the good stuff...like “stargazing” on the roof with no Parisian interruptions (unless you count pigeons, in which case...sorry? But not really).

**Author's Note:**

> No, I have not abandoned my other stories! I am determined to finish them...eventually.
> 
> Let me know what you guys think.
> 
> I'm on tumblr - no-pantsparty.tumblr.com  
> Or you can reach me on here.
> 
> Leave me a comment or something.


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